


A star in somebody else's sky

by soy_em



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Homophobia, M/M, Season/Series 01, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-18 17:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14856692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soy_em/pseuds/soy_em
Summary: When Jared gets the news that he’ll be auditioning for the role of Sam Winchester, it should be the happiest day of his life. Auditioning for the lead role of his own tv show, competing against just one other actor - it’s his dream come true at last.Until he finds out the other actor is Jensen Ackles.Winning the role and acting alongside Jensen brings back a flood of memories and long-repressed emotions. Jared and Jensen will have to find a way to resolve their shared past if they are to make a success of their new show.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [SPN J2 Big Bang 2018 Art Masterpost: A Star In Somebody Else's Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898158) by [Mangacat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mangacat/pseuds/Mangacat). 
  * Inspired by [SPN J2 Big Bang 2018 Art Masterpost: A Star In Somebody Else's Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898158) by [Mangacat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mangacat/pseuds/Mangacat). 



> I started writing this over a year ago, when the first flashback just poured out of me. I'm so glad its finally done, and that I managed to pull off the most complicated thing I've written yet (hopefully).
> 
> Massive thanks to my beta, [Nisaki](https://nisaki-chan.tumblr.com/) for offering such helpful feedback. 
> 
> Superduper thanks to my artist, [Mangacat](https://mangacat201.livejournal.com/) for the beautiful art and for being so easy to work with.

 

Jensen’s phone rings, tinny and shrill. He jumps, dropping the grapefruit he was peeling into the sink and slices into his hand. A thin trail of blood wells up, red against the tan of his skin.

Hissing in dismay, he licks quickly at the cut while swiping for his phone with his other hand. Flipping his phone open, he sighs when he sees it’s his agent. At the moment, taking a call from Aaron doesn’t feel worth the cut - but he knows from experience not answering creates more misery.

“Aaron,” he says, tersely.

“Jen!” As usual, Aaron’s falsely cheerful, oozing a camaraderie that doesn’t exist.

“Don’t call me that.” There’s only one person who allowed to call him Jen, and Jensen hasn’t seen him in years.

“Sorry, Jen, I know you hate it.” Jensen can feel his teeth grating together. He had to get a new agent. “But this is important. I’ve booked you a new audition, big news! It’s gonna be amazing…”

Jensen tunes out as Aaron chatters on about how great the opportunity is and how brilliant he is for securing it for Jensen. Putting the phone on speaker, he cleans the cut and fishes a band aid out of the cupboard; he does not want grapefruit juice in an open wound.

Years of experience have given him a second sense about exactly how long Aaron’s monstrous ego needs to be pandered to before Jensen can ask pertinent questions, and he finds himself automatically listening again as Aaron’s monologue winds to a close.

“So tell me more about the audition,” he prompts. “Is it a show? A movie?”

“A show. Genre show, but let’s not be picky. You’re up for the lead. College boy who rebels against his family and gets dragged back in.”

That sounds vaguely interesting. “What genre?”

“Horror. Urban legends, that kind of stuff. Producer thinks they’ve spotted a gap in the market.”

At least he’s not being offered a cop show. He loathes cop shows.

“Who else is auditioning?” The last time Jensen auditioned for the lead role in a show, he’d found himself in a room with ten other men his own age, all of whom had spent the wait preening and talking to themselves in the large wall mirror. It wasn’t an experience he was keen to repeat.

“That’s the great thing,” Aaron says, sounding sincere for once. “It’s just you and one other guy.”

That does sound promising. He pops a slice of grapefruit into his mouth to give himself a moment to think, wincing at the sour taste.

“Who’s the other guy?” Knowing his luck, it’s probably Tom again.

“No one you’ve been up against before. Tall guy, stupid name.” There’s a pause as Aaron clearly tries to remember the name of Jensen’s competitor; yet again, Jensen reflects on how much he’s paying Aaron for this level of support.

“Jared something,” Aaron decides after a few moments of tense silence. “Jared… Jared Puh-”

He clearly can’t remember the name, but Jensen has no problem filling in the gap.

“Jared Padalecki,” he says, stomach somersaulting.

“Yeah, that’s it. You know him?”

“Not any more.” Jensen says, trying to give an air of finality to his voice so Aaron won’t press. It doesn’t work.

“Sounds like a story,” Aaron says, always eager for juicy gossip in an industry where knowledge is power.

“Not at all. We met a long time ago. Haven’t seen him in years.” Jensen keeps his voice clipped and short, no hint of the tumultuous emotion pouring through him. He is an actor, after all.

“Oh. Well, it’s just the two of you up for the part of…” there’s a rustle of paper, Aaron as well prepared as always. “Sam Winchester. They sent me some notes alongside the script; I’ll email it over to you.”

“Thanks.” Jensen peels his hands away from where he’d been gripping the kitchen cupboards, noting absently he’d been holding on so tight blood had already seeped through his bandaid.

“Audition’s Wednesday. Good luck, Jen.”

Aaron’s gone before Jensen can complain about the nickname again.

***

Jensen spends the day pacing in his apartment. He glaces cursorily at the files Aaron sends across; to his surprise, he’s interested in the project. It’s much more exciting, more unique, than anything else he’s been sent recently. But he can’t give the script the attention it deserves, because his brain is stuck on one thing: Jared.

It’s been years since they so much as spoke, never mind hung out. Jensen knew he was here in LA, of course; he’s seen Jared’s show a couple of times, watched the boy he knew transform into a man he doesn’t. He still can’t believe they’ve never crossed paths out here; given how small Hollywood is, its either a small miracle or Jared is actively avoiding him.

Not that Jensen has made any effort to get in touch with Jared; when his mom had told him in their weekly phone call Jared had secured a role on a new tv show and was moving to LA, Jensen had waited anxiously for a call that never came. So while he didn’t actively ignore Jared, he didn’t seek him out, either. But now fate is pushing them back together, in the most horrible, cruel way - competing for the same role.

Even having glanced at the script, Jensen knows Jared will make a far better Sam Winchester than he ever will; he could play the part, but Jared will live it. It’s not until a stray breeze floats through his window, sending paper skittering across the room, that he realises he’s compulsively shredded the printed version of the script.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, trying to sweep up the mess.

There are five days to go before his audition; at this rate, he’ll lose his mind before gets there.

***

Jared’s legs give out when he hears the news.

“You’re up against a real pretty guy. Don’t know much about him, but he doesn’t have much substance. Been on rubbish like Dawson’s Creek. You should have this in the bag, JT.”

“Sure,” Jared replies, frowning. He doesn’t like the way his agent often says negative things about other actors to make Jared feel better. He’d rather rely on his own talents than hope others fail.

“Your audition is on Wednesday. It’ll be you and this guy; Jensen Ackles.”

“Jensen?” Jared’s voice is so faint he can barely hear it himself. He slides down the wall into a crumpled heap, heart pounding so loudly he barely hears the rest of the conversation.

“Yeah, stupid name, huh? I guess they have to audition at least one other person. Looks like nepotism otherwise. But you’ve got this.”

Jared’s not sure he wants it.

***

Jared spends the next few days re-watching Dark Angel. And the episodes of Smallville Jensen is in. It’s hardly his first Jensen-marathon; he’s done this so many times he’s worried his DVDs will wear out. But he tries to watch them differently this time. Rather than wallowing in all his unresolved feelings about Jensen, he wants to work out what makes Jensen work as an actor.

It’s duty, though. Normally, if Jared were competing against one other actor, his quest for knowledge would drive him to know everything about the guy: his techniques, his style, the way he prepared for a role. He’d be tapping up his friends, asking questions, wanting to prepare as much as possible, wanting to secure the role. But this is different.

He feels like he knows everything and nothing about Jensen. He knows how Jensen likes his coffee, how Jensen deals with mornings, how Jensen likes to exercise, how Jensen styles his hair. He knows how Jensen looks when he’s had enough of people, and how he looks when he’s ready to re-engage with the world, because Jared had never been ‘people’. But all that knowledge is years out of date.

A part of him desperately wants to re-learn; to find out if it’s all the same or if Jensen has changed; if he takes milk in his coffee now, if he has a higher tolerance for small talk after years of living in LA. But the bigger part of him; the scared, lonely fourteen year-old he’s never been able to shake, is terrified of seeing Jensen again. He’d hurt so much, lost so much when Jensen left, it had taken him years to rebuild himself. He can’t risk that all coming crashing back down.

Growling, he pauses the DVD. It catches on Jensen’s face, his plush lips open in the pout that’s a core part of his image. Jared has vivid memories of watching Jensen make that face before, at cheerleaders, at waitresses, and in a more subtle way, at their friends’ moms. It had worked, every single time, getting Jensen an extra top up of milkshake, or a trip under the bleachers, or a handful of beers alongside the murmured request to behave responsibly. Jensen had always known exactly how attractive he was, and he’d clearly translated that knowledge to his acting career. It had worked on Jared, too; more than he cared to admit at the time, and far more than he wants to acknowledge now.

Throwing the remote onto the sofa, he storms out of the room, heading for the running machine in his small home gym. Maybe an hour of hard physical work will take his mind off of Wednesday.

^^^^

_The radio was blaring out into the warm, stuffy night. The truck bounced along the pot-holed road, jostling the two boys inside. Jared squirmed in his seat, thrilled as always to be with Jensen, and even more so to have snuck out of his house so late at night to go on a forbidden drive._

_Jensen spotted the opening up ahead and span the steering wheel, swerving the car onto the tiny dirt track. The car turned so sharply Jared fell into his side with a startled yelp, but he soon settled against his friend, taking the opportunity to lean into the older boy._

_They sped down the side road for a few more minutes, before Jensen directed the truck into the opening of a field and drove them through the gap. Soon they were among the corn and Jensen guided the truck to stop. “C’mon, squirt,” he said, pushing Jared off him._

_They hopped up onto the back of the truck, settling shoulder to shoulder. Jensen rifled in the cooler he’d brought, and pulled out two beers. “You tell your momma, and I’ll never be allowed back in your house,” he said warningly._

_“Like I’d tattle,” Jared said smugly. “I never tattled about that time you snuck out to see Amanda. Or that time you got so drunk you tripped over your own feet and cracked your head and told your mom it was a football accident. Or that time…”_

_“Alright, alright.” Jensen was wriggling with embarrassment, but he was laughing too and as ever, it made Jared’s heart soar. There was nothing he liked more than making Jensen smile._

_Jensen scrubbed his hand across Jared’s mop of wild brown hair in retaliation, but then let his arm drop around Jared and pulled him close. They both fell silent, taking in the quiet around them, so different from the noise and chaos Jared had left at home. He thought of Jeff’s rock music blaring from one side of his room, Meggy’s Shania Twain tape on repeat through the other wall, and sighed with joy._

_He was so pleased Jensen had appeared below his window tonight, encouraging him to climb out. He still didn’t really understand how Jensen became his friend, rather than Jeff’s; why it was him Jensen sought out, rather than other boys his own age; or what Jensen, 18 and so, so cool, saw in shrimpy, 14 year old Jared with his bony knees and weird eyes, but he wasn’t going to question it. He knows Jensen just sees him as a little brother, someone slightly cooler to hang out with than his own younger sister, and he’s come to accept that. He can keep his crush hidden._

_They sat companionably for a few minutes, looking up at at the panoply of stars above them. Jensen was warm against his side and Jared would rather be here than anywhere else in the world right now. He was jostled as Jensen tipped his beer back, finished before Jared had even got halfway._

_“Jay,” Jensen started slowly, already reaching for another beer. “I brought you out here tonight to tell you something.”_

_“Ok,” Jared replied, almost sleepy with contentment._

_“Jay. I.” Jensen pushed himself up and around to face Jared. “Jay, I’m going to be leaving in a couple of days.”_

_“What?” Jared felt cold fingers of realisation sweeping down his spine. This wasn’t good. “You mean like heading to your aunts for the week or something?”_

_“No, Jay. Leaving.”_

_Jensen wasn’t able to meet Jared’s eyes. He sat, head down, fiddling with the label on his beer bottle as Jared’s brain tried to catch up with what he was saying._

_“Leave? For where?” Jared’s voice cracked embarrassingly, panic getting the better of him._

_“LA. Hollywood. I’m gonna head there and try the acting thing.”_

_“What, you got another part? When will you be back?”_

_“No, Jay. No part. I’m leaving to try and do it properly. I’m gonna be living there.”_

_Jensen had had a couple of small roles on tv shows, taking him away from Jared for a couple of weeks at a time, and he knew Jensen was stupid pretty, but he’d never thought of this. He’d expected Jensen to be up the road from him in Austin this year, able to drive home at a moment's notice to see Jared whenever he was needed. He’d never once thought of Jensen leaving the state, leaving him._

_“But what about college?” Jared’s voice cracked for real now, tears seeping through. He blinked wildly, trying to hold on to his self-control. Jensen couldn’t leave._

_“I’ve deferred my place for a bit. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll come back to it - but hopefully it will.” Jensen sounded wistful, and a bit nervous, his voice wobbling slightly._

_“Oh,” was all Jared was able to get out. He turned his back on his friend before Jensen could see his tears, but the tremble of his shoulders gave him away._

_“That’s why I called round tonight, Jay. Wanted to tell you myself, in private. It’ll be great. You can come and visit me in LA and we’ll have so much fun, and I’ll be home all the time as well.” Jensen was cajoling now, and Jared felt hands smoothing along his back, aiming to comfort._

_“I don’t want you to leave, Jen.”_

_Jared could barely get the words out, he was crying so hard. It felt like his whole world was crashing around him. These past couple of years had been so fantastic, so fun, as he and Jensen had grown closer and closer. Jensen had gone from being one of Jeff’s big group of friends to being Jared’s best friend, the friend who was always there for him when he needed someone, the friend who made him laugh so much he snorted pepsi up his nose. And now, that friend was leaving, and it was devastating._

_“Don’t cry, Jay, please. I can’t bear it when you cry.”_

_Jared tried to resist, but Jensen was a lot bigger than him and he was eventually pulled into his friend’s arms, cradled against Jensen’s chest. Eventually, his sobs calmed, and he looked up to see Jensen staring back at him, barely holding back his own tears._

_“Why, Jen? Why do you want to leave?” To leave me, was Jared’s unspoken question._

_“I’ve gotta take this chance, Jay. I think I have a real shot at being a real actor, and it’s what I want to do. I’ve got to give it a try. I won’t be able to forgive myself if I don’t.”_

_Jared could understand that. The thing he’d wanted most in the world was to be Jensen’s friend, back when Jensen was hanging around with Jeff, and he’d worked for it. He’d found ways to be around them, always making food in the kitchen when they were there, always ready with a joke when Jensen was sad, always reading the books he saw Jensen with. It had paid off in the end, and it had been so worth it. Jared could understand Jensen needed to do this, but it was so unfair that it meant leaving him behind._

_“I wish I was 18 too,” he said. “Then I could come with you.”_

_“I wish you were too,” Jensen said, quiet. “Life won’t be nearly as good without you, squirt. But I promise, I’ll come back and see you all the time.”_

_“You better.” Jared pushed tighter into Jensen, desperate to take every last opportunity to be close to his best friend. “You better.”_


	2. Chapter 2

Jensen stares at the pitted, stained ceiling, head tipped back to avoid watching the door. The usual nerves about auditions are absent; he knows his part off by heart, and truly, he can’t focus on Sam Winchester right now. Normally, at this point he’d be sweating, worried about making a good impression, trying to think of the banalities that pass for conversation in these situations. But today, his attention is laser-focused on the door and who should be coming through it any moment now. 

Jensen would love to pretend he hasn’t dressed for this, hasn’t prepared himself more for Jared than Sam Winchester - but he can’t lie to himself that well. He’s dressed as if for a date (though he can’t even remember the last time he was in a relationship that lasted longer than the time it took to take a taxi home from a club). He’s wearing his best, most form-fitting jeans and a crisp blue shirt; his hair is gelled into perfect, tousled spikes and his breath is minty fresh. If he’s going to see Jared again after all these years, he’s going to make a good impression on the man who used to be his best friend. 

What he can’t bring himself to admit is that nestled under his pristine shirt is a ratty old band t-shirt from the Pearl Jam concert he and Jared had gone to when Jared was 13. He’d begged Jared’s mom to let them go to the concert, promised Sherri they’d be safe driving to Austin and back to see Jared’s favourite band. Sherri had reluctantly agreed, extracting promise after promise form Jensen about safe driving, not drinking, and not letting her precious boy out of his sight - but she’d eventually agreed. Jared had almost fainted with excitement when Jensen gave him the tickets, and his joy during the night is seared into Jensen’s memory.

Jensen’s not sure whether he’ll have the guts to show Jared he still has it, or whether Jared will even recognise it for what it is. But he has to try. 

***

Jared crashes through the door, running late as usual. Sadie had refused to come in from the yard, and he spent valuable time coaxing her inside. As a result he feels ill-prepared and unkempt, the baggy hoodie nestled around him not the best outfit for meeting with his potential new employers. _Or Jensen_ , but he can’t allow himself to think that way. He’s here for an audition, nothing more.

Despite his extensive mental preparation over the past week, the sight of his old friend still hits him like a punch to the gut, so strong it’s all he can do not to double over with it. Jensen’s sat, calm as anything, in the uncomfortable waiting area. He’s got his head tipped back, eyes closed, and Jared wonders with a flash of spite whether he’s become LA enough to meditate before auditions. 

If he has, he soon snaps out of it when Jared slams the door, jumping to his feet and taking an uncertain step forwards.

They stare at each other, the silence deafening. Blood is roaring in Jared’s ears as he sweeps his eyes over Jensen, relearning all the old familiar parts of him and unwillingly taking note of the new. Jensen has blonder hair now; his shoulders are broader than the slender boy he used to know. 

Selfishly, Jared waits for Jensen to make the first move. The angry fourteen year old in his head won’t let him do anything else; _Jensen is the oldest,_ he thinks, petty; and _Jensen left me_ , a flash of hurt that scalds his cheeks. 

Jensen’s stood stock-still, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, but he’s as frozen as Jared. 

The door behind Jensen opens with a creak. 

“Jensen, you’re up.” The woman who pokes her head through the gap could be the dictionary-definition of ‘no nonsense’; her tone sharp and hurried, her stiletto heel already tapping impatiently on the ground in time with the thud of Jared’s pulse. 

“I… ok.” Jensen looks flustered, shooting looks Jared can’t interpret between him and the studio exec, but he has no choice. He follows her out through the door with one last unreadable look back at Jared.

Jared’s whole body slumps, tension draining from his muscles. He barely makes it to the chairs on legs that feel like jelly, settling down and running his hands through his hair. He can feel sweat beading along his collarbone and trickling down his back, his body’s reaction to the turmoil flowing through him. Why hadn’t Jensen spoken? Did Jensen really care so little about their old friendship he couldn’t bother to even greet Jared? He groans, flinging his head back so hard it bangs on the wall. 

At least his audition will be a breeze after that. 

***

Jensen has no recollection of his audition. It was fifteen minutes ago, and he cannot remember a single thing about it. All he can hope for is that it wasn’t bad enough to get him barred from the network; but that worry pales in comparison to his concerns about Jared.

Jared has taken his place in the studio, giving Jensen some precious time to analyse what had happened when they met. But no matter how he twists and turns it about in his head, he can’t make sense of those brief few minutes. Why hadn’t Jared said anything? Did he want to pretend they’d never known each other?

The terrifying lady - “Call me Ms Weston” - had asked Jensen to wait, so he’s stuck here twiddling his thumbs, when all he wants to do is find the nearest bar. He doesn’t know whether to hope Jared comes back out in a few minutes, so they can try to have a better reunion; or whether he should draw a line under the whole disaster and hope he never sees Jared again. He’s avoided running into Jared by accident these past few years; it should be even easier to do so on purpose. 

His inability to decide is thankfully cut short by the reappearance of Ms Weston. She beckons him without a word, and despite her rudeness, Jensen has no choice but to obey. She speeds back along the corridor at such a rate Jensen finds himself struggling to keep up. It gives him no opportunity to wonder about why he’s being called back, never mind ask questions; it’s clear Ms Weston doesn’t take kindly to conversation.

They come to a halt outside the room he’d auditioned in, and Jensen is gestured inside with no further explanation. He shoots Ms Weston a strained smile (an early lesson had been to make friends whenever and wherever possible - in Hollywood, you always see someone again), and pushes the door open. 

The first thing he sees is Jared, hunched in a chair, knee jittering in an old tell. Only then does he note the full panel of studio execs sitting behind the long table in front of them. More people have arrived since his audition, and with a lurch of his stomach, he recognises one of them as the head of the network.

He peers at them all, waiting for instruction. They peer back.

“Well, Jensen, crack on,” one of them says, his suit making him indistinguishable from his neighbour. 

This is Jensen’s worst nightmare. He’s stood in front of a group of Hollywood’s most powerful, with no idea what he’s supposed to be doing. Is he supposed to read for Sam again? Panicked, he looks around for clues.

“I swore I was done hunting for good.” Jared’s speaking, reading the first line of the script they memorised; but even with Jensen’s limited knowledge of this current Jared, it doesn’t sound like him. His shoulders are pulled in tight, body tense, and his hair pushed back off his forehead. _It’s Sam,_ he realises. 

_Sam_ stares at him, eyes wide and flicking between Jensen and the script clutched in his hands. He’s clearly trying to send a message, but Jensen has no idea what. 

It clicks. If Jared is Sam, he must be Dean. 

“Come on,” he says, voice trembling before he can infuse it with the cockiness central to Dean’s character. “It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t that bad.”

For a moment, Jared’s eyes blaze with an indefinable emotion, but then he’s back in a flash to his version of Sam Winchester. 

“Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45.”

The scene flows effortlessly between them, Dean sinking over Jensen like a second skin. He watches Sam in front of him, angry and tense and worried; feels Dean’s concern for his little brother bubbling under his skin. It’s the best acting he’s ever done, bar none; and it doesn’t even compare to how good Jared is. He feels pride well in his chest, already unsure whether its him, proud of Jared, or Dean, proud of Sam.

By the time they finish the scene, adrenaline is racing through his body. He’s never felt such an instant connection with any other character, or any other actor. Jared clearly feels it too; he beams at Jensen, for a second, before his eyes shutter again as he turns to face the panel. 

“Well boys, that was excellent.” The same man is speaking, but others along the table are nodding in agreement. “One of the best chemistry reads I’ve ever seen. Congratulations, Sam and Dean; you’ve got your pilot.”

The next few minutes are a whirlwind of handshakes and thank yous; Jensen makes his way down the line of execs, ensuring he says a few words to everyone. He’s aware of Jared doing the same, but his attention is caught by Peter, the network head. By the time Peter claps him on the shoulder, murmuring something about golf before turning away, Jared is gone.

^^^^

_Hollywood wasn’t what Jensen had expected. His visions had swung between the glitzy visions he’d seen on the tv, all fake gold and plush leather, with smiling skinny girls everywhere; and his mother’s nightmares of sleazy managers beckoning him towards casting couches and nights spent huddled on friend’s couches fighting rodents._

_The reality had been somewhere in between. He’d earned enough on the few small roles he’d taken before moving out that he could float himself for a couple of months, and he’d found himself a room in a house-share with four other aspiring actors and one hopeful musician. He was last into the house so his room was poky and airless, but it was his and it had a bed, and he had access to a toilet, and that was all he needed._

_The beautiful thin girls were everywhere. They were often in his house in the evenings (a couple of his housemates had ridiculous luck with women), and they were at every bar, every casting agency, every party, looking for their break. They flocked around him, unaware he wasn’t interested._

_There was indeed a lot of fake gold, but the leather he’d come across so far in at the casting agencies he went to tended to be cracked and worn, having seen better days. He longed for the days of the smooth, soft leather he sometimes caught glimpses of in other offices._

_Despite that, he’d not done too badly for himself in his first few weeks. He’d upgraded his manager, moving to a more reputable agency with better connections; and he’d secured auditions for a couple of roles. He’d even been invited to a couple of parties, which he’d hated, but he knew showing his face was part of the deal._

_What he was finding most difficult was the rampant fakeness of everything - most especially the people. He’d come from a small suburb of Dallas, and then moved to San Antonio, and in both everyone had known everyone else’s business. While he was sure people could, and did, keep major secrets, the vast majority of everyday life was well known to all and sundry, and being fake about anything wasn’t an option. Everyone knew everyone else’s opinion on everything, not least because they were often the same opinions they’d held for the past twenty years._

_But here - here he couldn’t tell when people meant what they said, or if they were playing a part, or agreeing with something for their own ends. Everyone appeared to be playing their own little game, and he was excluded from all of them._

_He’d gone to a party, invited by Alessandro, his casting agent, with the strict instruction to ‘show his pretty face off’. Having reconciled the objectification he felt with the potential gain from the evening, he’d found some vaguely presentable clothes and hopped in a taxi to get there. His agent had given him reams of information on who was likely to attend and who he would be best placed to make links with, and Jensen had honestly forgotten most of it as soon as he walked out of the door. He’d tried to remember the details of who knew who, and who was fucking who, and who fucking hated who, but ultimately, he just wasn’t interested._

_He’d spent a whole evening of his life he’d never get back making awkward small talk with people in the same position he was in, always knowing he might find them one day up for the same parts, competing against him. He was also rapidly discovering he was entirely useless at the small talk required at these events; it bored him and it made him nervous, because he felt like it must be boring the other person as well. He agent assured him everyone felt the same way, and that it had to be suffered through, but Jensen was unconvinced._

_He’d also had some fairly wacky conversations with people who were out of their heads on coke (or something stronger). Those had been significantly more interesting, but he suspected less useful as the people involved were unlikely to remember him in the morning._

_A couple of times, Alessandro had suggested he take something before the parties. “Just a little something,” his agent had suggested, with a sly smile. “I can hook you up. Help get that stick out of your ass.”_

_But Jensen always refused, as politely as possible. It was a slippery slope; just a little something could end up being something much bigger, and there were more than enough bad examples around him to ensure he wasn’t tempted._

_But in his first weeks in Hollywood, what he experienced, more than shock at the insincerity, annoyance at the endless small talk and power games, or even amusement at the endless parade of beautiful people, was that he missed Jared._

_He missed his friend’s wit and his intelligence; his booming laugh and flailing, colt-like limbs and the way he knew Jensen inside out without even having to ask questions. Jared instinctively understood Jensen, knew all his weird tics, his hatred of green beans and the fact Jensen got more nervous talking to new people than he did before going on stage. Jared had been a constant, steady support by his side through his last two years of highschool, tucked under his arm or wrestling with him for control of the video console, and he missed it with a physical ache. The lack of Jared felt like a phantom limb, with Jensen often turning around to ask Jared his opinion on something before remembering the kid was back in San Antonio. He called Jared as often as he could, but he was always short of credit on his phone, and besides, it wasn’t the same; it wasn’t the shared experience of everyday life they’d had before._

_***_

_Jensen’s first really truly negative experience of Hollywood came a few weeks after he arrived. His first few auditions were a bust, and he was beginning to look worriedly at his rapidly dwindling bank balance, knowing he had to find something soon, even something small, or risk the humiliation of going back to Texas._

_Alessandro gave him details of a small role in an established sit-com. “Nothing exciting, Jen,” he said, smarmy voice always calling Jensen by the hated nickname. “But good enough, it’ll get your name out there and you pretty face seen. It’s a good step in the right direction.”_

_So Jensen found himself on the way out of the city, heading to one of the major studios late on a Friday afternoon, messenger bag slung over his shoulder with the script in it. He’d memorised it already, of course; but he felt better for having it with him. Cars streamed past him as his taxi entered, all heading in the opposite direction as casts and crews went home for the weekend._

_The taxi pulled up in front of a low office block, away from the main stages. Jensen hopped out and paid his fare, resenting the extra few dollars tip. Looking in his wallet, he grit his teeth as he thought about how much he needed this role._

_The intercom buzzed him into a deserted building. The reception desk stood empty, receptionists gone home for the evening, and his steps echoed off the walls as he tried to navigate his way down quiet corridors to the right office. Something uncomfortable twinged in his gut as he thought about how alone he was here, and how odd it was to be holding an audition this late, with no other attendees; but he dismissed it. This might feel like the set up for a low budget horror movie, but Jensen was a big boy and he had no reason to be spooked by an empty building._

_It took a while - and a lot of opened doors - before Jensen found the right office. It was on the corner, as he should’ve suspected, but the glow of the sunset outside was muted by curtains pulled across the windows, giving the room a gloomy feel._

_“Hi,” he said, popping his head around the door. “Jensen Ackles, here to interview for the part of David?” He could make out two figures sat in the dim room, one on a sofa in the corner and the other behind the desk._

_“Jensen, come in.” The man at the desk stood, holding out his hand. He was tall, and slim enough he might be called skinny, his suit looking rumpled on his frame. “Grant Adams, casting director. This is my colleague.”_

_The other man smirked in greeting. Jensen narrowed his eyes at the lack of a proper introduction, his mama’s politeness offended at the rudeness; but more worryingly, his own sense of self-preservation wondering why no name was given. He took note of the man’s greying hair, salt and pepper beard and protruding stomach; he was in his late forties, Jensen would guess, and still looked relatively good for his age._

_As Jensen looked, the man returned the favour, giving Jensen a slow onceover. Jensen was getting used to the blatant objectification he had been constantly subjected to since he’d been here, but it still made his skin crawl._

_He turned back towards Grant. “Thanks for letting me audition,” he began._

_“Oh no, thank you,” Grant replied. He too gave Jensen the same look, loosening his tie as his eyes drifted towards Jensen’s belt._

_Ignoring his own looming sense of dread, Jensen pressed on. “Shall I go straight into the scene?” he asked. It was a relatively simple part; one episode, a few lines, his silent presence required in a few other scenes._

_“I’m sure you could nail the scene with your eyes closed,” the guy on the sofa interjected. “Perhaps we should talk terms first.” There was a leer to his voice, the insinuation made clear as he licked his lips. He’s like a caricature of a villain, Jensen thought, hysterically._

_“My agent discusses my terms,” he said primly, hoping to avoid what this was turning into. He wondered if he should just leave now, cut his losses; but there was a sense of menace in the air which suggested that might propel the situation into even more dangerous territory._

_“Well, your agent sent you here,” Grant said. “Alessandro, right? He’s very familiar with our standard terms.” There was laughter in his voice, and he reclined back against the desk, relaxed. He had the distinct air of someone playing a game with only one possible victor._

_Fury sank into Jensen’s stomach, clawing at his insides._

_“Then all you need to see is my audition,” he said firmly. “You can discuss terms with Alessandro on Monday.”_

_“Kid,” the guy on the sofa said, mocking. “We really don’t want to see you act.”_

_Jensen had never felt younger, more inexperienced. He was trembling, ever so slightly, wondering how this was going to end, whether the guys were going to let him go or whether they were going to insist… Jensen didn’t want to think about what they might insist on._

_He had a sudden flashback to Texas: its sticky heat, blazing sunshine and the constant buzzing of insects; here in this sterile, air conditioned office in LA, he could almost taste Texan air. He’d never wanted to be somewhere else so badly in his life._

_“So Jensen,” Grant continued, as if this were a regular business negotiation. “Part’s yours. If you really want it.”_

_Jensen mustered his courage, and his overflowing sense of outrage._

_“No thank you,” he said, hands curled into fists at his sides._

_The man on the sofa laughed, delighted, and Grant’s mouth turned up in a wide shark smile._

_“You sure, Jensen?” he asked. “Absolutely sure? I’m casting director for a fair few shows. There’s a couple of other parts coming up as well, they’d be perfect for someone as…” he hesitated, pretending to search for the right word. “Someone with your beauty.”_

_Jensen felt a flush creep across his face. “Definitely not.”_

_“God, you’re freaking gorgeous, kid.” Sofa man stood up and took a step towards Jensen, who stepped back instinctively. His back hit the door, and internally, he howled with frustration. Sofa guy was tall, and he was close enough to loom over Jensen._

_“Gorgeous,” he said, laughing, as he stroked the back of his hand down Jensen’s hot face. Jensen choked back a whimper, furious he’d let himself get trapped rather than leaving when he had the chance._

_“Are you absolutely sure, Jensen?” Grant asked, sounding eerily like a disappointed teacher. “This is a great opportunity for you. It could launch your career.”_

_Trying to ignore the man standing so close their chests are brushing, Jensen managed to croak out another denial. “I’m sure.”_

_“Well, your loss,” Grant said, still soundly disgustingly amused. “I’m sure someone else will be more than grateful for the chance.”_

_“Probably not as pretty, though,” sofa man said, sliding his thumb across Jensen’s lower lip before backing away. He sank back down onto the sofa, and Jensen slumped in relief._

_“That will be all, Jensen,” Grant said. “I’m sure you can see yourself out.”_

_Jensen stared at him, incredulous. His body was so keyed up, so ready to fight, he couldn’t compute that he was suddenly free to go._

_“What did you think we were going to do? Assault you?” Grant was outright laughing, delighted at the look on Jensen’s face._

_The fury bubbled up again at the realisation that Grant was getting off on the powertrip, overriding Jensen’s sense of self-preservation. “Fuck you,” he said, wrestling the door open. It slammed behind him and he took off down the corridor, only breaking into a run once he’d rounded the first corridor._

_He was out into the humid California air as soon as he could find an exit, stumbling into the service area for the offices. A wave of nausea rushed through him and before he had time to think, he vomited next to the huge industrial bins._

_“Fuck,” he thought, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”_

_As soon as he was able to breathe properly again, he realised the mess he was in. His taxi wouldn’t be back to collect him for another half an hour, at least; and it would take at least that long to call one to come and collect him. He had no intention of waiting outside for Grant, or his skeevy friend, to go home for the day; so with reluctance he set off on foot, hoping he could hitch a ride on the way back to the city._

_He spent his walk imagining all of the unpleasant things he was going to say to Alessandro, right before he quit his agency._


	3. Chapter 3

The sun is burning over the dusty plains, scorching the ground and making Jensen glad of the air-conditioned interior of the car. He stares out as the flat scenery speeds by, his surly driver and lack of cell coverage offering little alternative.

He tries to focus on the strange beauty of the beaten orange landscape, the green forced back by the heat of midsummer. This is not a part of California he knows; it’s a world away from the plastic bustle and gardener-maintained green of LA. But he could be walking through the Rockies right now, or meandering along a beach in Maui, or sneaking around the cobbled streets of Florence, and it would make no difference; his mind only knows one subject.

He’s headed out into the sticks to film the pilot episode of Supernatural - the woefully uninspired name given to his new project. Dean Winchester is already resident in a corner of his brain, taking up the space allocated to cars and the appreciation of a woman’s curves (Jensen hadn’t been using that space at all, so it’s good to have Dean in there). But Dean’s dormant most of the time; pushed behind Jensen’s concerns about Jared.

He rolls his internal eyes as the name crosses his mind yet again. Even he’s bored with how monotone his thoughts have become. He tries to focus back on the landscape, resolutely ignoring Dean’s pulse of understanding. After all, Dean is headed to meet his wayward younger brother again for the first time in years.

Soon, he can see a cluster of buildings in the distance; no doubt the town they’re heading for. He musters up the courage he’s going to need for making nice when he arrives. He’s got no idea when Jared is due, or if he’s already there. His heart clenches painfully in a way he’s become unpleasantly accustomed to over the past few weeks.

It feels like almost no time at all before the car swings to a stop outside a dingy motel. His driver scowls at Jensen before going to open the trunk. Jensen stepps out, his whole body thrumming with nerves. 

Shielding his eyes against the evening sun, he peers around, but there’s no sign of Jared. 

***

It’s late the next afternoon before Jared arrives, and by then, Jensen is a mess. 

Not outwardly, at least. At first glance, he’s sure he looks cool (as much as one can in ninety degree heat) and unflustered; his hair neatly styled and his clothes carefully chosen. But his insides are roiling with a tension that builds with every Jared-free hour. 

It’s not like he’s not kept busy. He’s got costume fittings and make up trials and half a million health and safety documents to sign. 

Cars have been coming and going all day, preparing the set for their first day of real filming. Jensen’s tuned them out, only dimly aware of the hustle and bustle of deliveries and crew members arriving. So he’s not sure what sixth sense makes him look out the window as another generic black jeep pulls up, tinted windows doing a poor job of hiding that it has an official driver. Jensen’s heart slows, hands prickling with sweat, because he knows this is Jared arriving. 

He’s right. Jared unfolds himself from the car, mile-long legs appearing before his skinny torso. He’s wearing battered sneakers and real, ripped jeans - not the artfully distressed kind that cost a fortune. He shakes himself down as he gets out, an action so familiar Jensen can’t believe he’d forgotten it. 

Before Jensen realises, his nose is pressed to the window of the portacabin he’s in, fingertips reaching out to find glass in their way. 

Jared must be feeling the same indefinable sense of closeness Jensen is, because he looks straight at Jensen’s window. Their eyes lock for a second, the world spinning to a pause, but before Jensen can muster the muscle memory to wave, Jared has spun on his heel and is following a PA towards the other side of the set. 

Jensen slumps, bracing his hands on the windowsill and his forehead on the glass. He has no idea what to make of Jared’s behaviour, his complete lack of acknowledgement. He used to know exactly how Jared would react in every circumstance; clearly, that is no longer the case.

***

“That’s a wrap!”

Jensen slouches at the library table, resting his head on his hands. Their first scene together and it was perfect; only a couple of takes required to get the right amount of brotherly frustration, hands slapping each other and eyes rolling. It felt a like a return to their past, Jensen empathising with Dean so much the lines between them are dangerously blurred.

Jared’s hovering, waiting for further instruction from the director, who is more concerned with making sure his crew are working correctly than his lead actors. Even after a few hours, it’s already clear they’ve assembled a good group; there’s been relatively few issues, almost no holdups, but inevitably, there are one or two things for the director to sort out on day one. 

Jensen takes the opportunity to peek up at his old friend. Jared’s turned away from him, midday sun lighting his profile in a way that accentuates the tilt of his nose and fine-drawn cheekbones. He’s stunning, his shoulders even broader than at the audition, tapering into a waist so narrow Jensen might well be able to wrap his hands around it. Jensen’s no idealist - he knows looks are a key driver of success in their world, and Jared has all the beauty he’ll need alongside his raw acting talent.

Unfortunately, Jared’s strong back is also hunched in. Jared’s curled defensively around himself, his body language screaming _keep away_ , and Jensen doesn’t dare to intrude. 

Apart from their lines, they’ve barely spoken two words to each other; Jared’s been rushed from pillar to post since he arrived, doing everything Jensen had already taken care of; and he’d taken himself to bed so early the night before Jensen hadn’t had a chance to find him. This morning, Jared hadn’t been around for breakfast - Jensen had later seen him come back from a run, grabbing a breakfast roll in sweaty hands as he headed back to his room with headphones still in - so there had been no chance to catch up then either. 

Now, Jensen is desperate to make conversation, to bridge the rapidly widening gulf between them, but he has no idea how to break through the barriers Jared has apparently put up so effectively. He assesses and discards a dozen or more conversational gambits while they wait, from “How was your hotel room” to “What was Gilmore Girls like?” to “I think you know Tom Welling, he’s a friend of mine”, right through to “How about them Cowboys”; but they’re all trite and shallow in view of their shared history.

He’s settled on the safely professional, “Do you want to sit down and talk about Sam and Dean’s backstory,” when the director comes rushing back in, followed by a small team of PAs.

“Jared,” he barks. “Off with Zahra to costume fitting. Jensen, we’re filming the scene with the Sheriff. Back to makeup, now.”

Jensen clears his throat, ready to make his offer for lunchtime, but Jared’s gone before he can speak.

***

On their second day of filming, they start the scene in Sam’s apartment. Jared has been dreading it since he read the script, not least because fight scenes are hardly something he’s had to focus on for Gilmore Girls. This is going to be by far the most detailed, choreographed action scene he’s ever taken part in (although given the nature of the show, it will be superseded even by the end of the pilot) and he’s worried about fucking it up.

And that’s before he even thinks about the Jensen issue. The Jensen issue which has kept him awake these past two nights (and even before, if he’s honest), which has him shy and blushing and unable to make eye contact or use actual words. The Jensen issue which has him particularly worried about a scene where they’ll be rolling around on the floor together. 

The issue being Jensen is _still_ stupidly attractive, and despite everything, Jared apparently _still_ has a massive crush on him. 

He feels eleven again, in awe of his big brother’s best friend, watching from afar as they do teenage stuff he’s not invited to. He feels twelve again, just gathering the courage to talk to Jensen, putting in place plans and strategies to start conversations, and still painfully shy. He feels thirteen again, putting a name and a greater understanding to why he feels the way he does, both craving and dreading their constant wrestling. He feels fourteen again, tripping over suddenly-big feet and dropping things with hands too big for his body, face scalding every time Jensen laughs fondly at him. 

He’s twenty-two, dammit; he’s supposed to be over feeling this way about other boys. He’s supposed to have conquered the crippling insecurity and worry the other boy won’t like him back; or worse, be disgusted by him. 

That’s more than enough turmoil to be wreaking havoc with his brain and his ability to behave like a professional adult. But worse is the _other_ Jensen issue. 

The fact that Jensen still doesn’t want to know him.

Jared had cried hot, bitter tears the night before; chest hitching as he hunched in his hotel bed, desperately trying to keep himself under control, wishing desperately for the comfort of his dogs. Their first day of filming, and the scene had gone so well, the chemistry between Sam and Dean off the charts. But there’d been exactly nothing from Jensen himself; not even any polite small talk, let alone any acknowledgement they knew each other. 

Jared’s seen what Hollywood can do to people, has seen people be nasty, be cynical, be indifferent to the pain of others, and he knows it’s a defense mechanism against the casual cruelty of the industry. But he’d never thought to see it from Jensen, the sweet boy who’d always helped old ladies with their shopping, who’d shoveled snow one year for the single mom next door, who’d taken a shy twelve year old under his wing and become best friends. 

And now he has to roll about on the floor for hours with the gorgeous, cold man he has a crush on, and pretend everything is ok.

***

It’s a mortifying mess, Jared’s worst nightmare come to pass. 

It’s immediately obvious Jensen has had far more fight training than him. He kicks, punches and rolls like he knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly how much strength to put into everything. Jared, on the other hand, is terrified of hurting Jensen. He knows he doesn’t know his own strength sometimes, has spent the last few years, as he’s grown taller and taller, teaching himself to always be gentle and soft with other people. This is the complete opposite. While his blows obviously aren’t meant to connect, they still have to look real. 

“Harder, Jared,” the stunt coordinator encourages him, as they reset the sequence. Jensen looks directly at him for once, eyes challenging, and Jared tries again.

“Come on Padalecki, you’re huge. You can go harder than that.” The stunt coordinator sounds utterly exasperated.

Jensen’s eyes mock him from where he waits to block the move, and Jared focuses on that frustration, trying to channel it to overcome his inherent reluctance to hit people. It works, at least for one move, and Jared breathes a sigh of relief. 

But he finds himself overcoming the same battle for every single action in the sequence, having to be coached through how hard to hit, how high to kick. He can practically feel the irritation rolling off of Jensen, and it ratchets his anxiety higher and higher as the day drags on. 

It gets worse though. The sequence ends with them rolling on the floor together, Jensen pinning him down with a hand on his throat. Its like his every teenage fantasy come to life, thoughts Jared had previously confined to his own private time suddenly happening for real. 

Ironically, its the easiest part. Jared is more than willing to be manhandled across the floor by Jensen, and it shows. Luckily, they only have to shoot it twice, because Jensen’s heavy, warm, panting weight on top of him is doing bad things to Jared and his ability to act like a professional. 

Jensen has no problem acting like a professional, though. He pulls away from Jared before they move to shoot the final part of the sequence, looking out of the window unconcerned. Jared hopes he hasn’t noticed anything untoward - the whole experience has been embarrassing enough without Jensen realising Jared is turned on as well. 

Jared wouldn’t have believed it, but the final bit of the fight sequence takes even longer to film than the first. They start with Jared on his back again, Jensen solid above him, and Jared can’t bring himself to flip them over. He can’t find Sam in his head, can’t find Sam’s irritation and little brother competitiveness; all he can hear is the buzzing in his own ears as he looks up at Jensen and tries not to move his hips. 

It takes forever. Jared’s finally able to do it, to get Jensen pinned under him. It feels so wrong he jumps up as soon as he’s able, sinking down into his chair and trying resolutely not to think about how much better it had been to have Jensen over him. They’re so late finishing the sequence they have to break for lunch; Adrianne, who has been waiting the whole time, goes to put on longer pants and Jensen stalks off without a word. Jared’s left hunched uncomfortably in his directors chair, waiting until he can safely rejoin the decent society. 

***

By lunch the next day, Jared has no other choice but to think Jensen had noticed everything. Worse, he’d noticed everything and is disgusted with Jared. He hasn’t said another word to Jared outside of their scenes, but jokes with their crew, flirts with their makeup girls and discusses scenes earnestly with the director. The ice is only aimed at Jared.

 

Jensen hadn’t given much indication about his sexuality before he left San Antonio. He’d had a few casual girlfriends, nothing serious; and took Sarah Leyland to the prom as their entire school expected. He’d been well aware of his own looks - using them to score free stuff and sneak into bars with frustrating regularity; but while that charm had primarily been aimed at women, Jared had seen him send the odd flirtatious smile towards waiters once in a while. He’d never talked about girls with Jared, nor had he pushed Jared to talk about his latest crush, as Jeff had been annoyingly prone to do. 

So Jared had assumed Jensen was straight, but he’d never for a moment thought Jensen would be homophobic. The boy he knew was too kind, too empathetic, to judge anyone for something they couldn’t help. But clearly the man Jensen had become had different ideas.

Jared retreats into himself for the rest of the shoot. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so quiet for so long; he finds it hard to joke with the crew when he’s worrying what Jensen might have told them, or what they might have noticed themselves during the scene. None of them treat him badly, but his own paranoia makes him clam up every time someone speaks to him. 

Luckily, Sam Winchester’s head is an interesting place to retreat into. Jared spends hours sitting quietly, mentally flicking through what he knows about Sam and filling in the gaps. He’s trying to work out why Sam left for Stanford under such a black cloud; the Sam he and Jensen are creating in scenes is so, so angry at their father but desperate for his big brother’s love and attention, and Jared finds himself needing to know what would have made Sam give that up.

He limps towards the end of the shoot. This is his dream - lead of his own tv show - and he wants nothing more than for it to be over.

***

The entire production heads out for drinks at the end of the shoot. They’re in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, and they’ve worked incredibly hard; the general consensus is everyone deserves a night where they let off some steam.

Jared desperately doesn’t want to go. He’d give anything to be able to hop in a taxi to the tiny local airport and get back to his friends in LA as soon as possible; or even better, back to the familiarity of his parents’ house in Texas. But he knows how damning it could be to earn a reputation for being a diva on set, so he forces himself to go out. Just for one drink, he promises himself.

Two hours later, he’s still there.

Jensen is different tonight, and Jared’s mesmerised. It’s like a tiny part of the control Jensen’s been holding himself under has come loose, and while it’s still not the Jensen he remembers, Jared can start to see through the cracks. 

He’s laughing less than he has on set, but when he does, it’s more real. The tiny crinkles at the corner of his eyes Jared remembers tracing one night when Jensen was too drunk to notice are visible for the first time; they’ve grown, Jared notes with a painful throb of his heart. He sees Jensen shift his shoulders the way he does when he’s about to say something he knows will leave his audience in stitches; Jared hadn’t even realised he’d forgotten that little tic. And at one point, something one of the cameramen says evokes the full body laugh Jared had lived for, back when he was thirteen. 

Jared manages to keep up conversation with Anne, who’d looked after their props, though he suspects she might not describe it as interesting. They touch on the usual: mutual connections, dream projects, the standard fare of Hollywood small talk. After a while, she heads to the bar for another round; when she comes back, she sets a shot glass in front of him alongside his beer.

Jared raises his eyebrows. 

“You look like you need it.” 

Jared bites his lip, undecided. He’d only intended to have one drink, after all; shots are a big deviation from the plan. But then Jensen’s pealing laugh echoes across the bar and he tosses the shot back without even bothering to scoop up the salt and lime beside it. 

Anne looks at him with sympathy. 

“He not interested?” she asks, inclining her head towards Jensen. Jared’s panic must show on his face, because she pats his hand immediately. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t that obvious. And I won’t say anything.”

Jared ducks his head, trying to hide the flush on his face. 

“Oh honey.” She’s an older woman, who gives off a comforting sense of motherliness alongside whip-smart humour. “If it helps, he wasn’t interested in anyone. Plenty tried.”

Jealousy burns through Jared like acid, scalding the back of his throat. 

Anne gives him a sharp look. “Stay there. I’ll get you another.”

***

The lights on the ceiling are very pretty. They’re spinning around, multi-coloured and random, darting from one side of the room to the other in a way that makes it hard for Jared to keep up with them. 

He’s playing a game, trying to count the lights. He’s tried counting each row and multiplying, because math has always been his friend; but they wiggle about so much he keeps losing count. 

Anne went home a couple of hours ago (Jared thinks), and he’s been talking to a few people since then. He’s bought a lot of people shots, and he thinks he’s drunk a few of them himself, but he’s not sure how many. At one point there’d been so many shots lined up on the table math had stopped being his friend. 

He’s sat back in his booth, vaguely watching the few people who are seeing out the night in between his research on the lights. Jensen is still here, he knows; he hears that happy laugh every so often, and the lights look particularly pretty when they play with Jensen’s freckles. But he hasn’t talked to Jared at all.

Sadness washes over Jared. The lack of Jensen is unbearable, he can’t stay a moment longer in a place where he is and Jensen is but they’re not talking. It’s unbearable. Un-bear-able. That’s a funny word - or it would be if it weren’t connected to Jensen.

Stumbling, he makes his way outside, intent on finding his way back to his hotel room. The furniture conspires against him though, blocking his exit. The door looms before him, and he’s out in the much cooler air, stars twinkling above him, before he’s ready. 

Startled, he looks around, and he realises he has no idea where his hotel is.

***

Jensen’s been watching Jared knock back shots for the past two hours. At one point, almost everyone in the bar got a freebie, the lines of glasses stretching out across Jared’s table and onto the bar, almost exhausting the supply of tequila. He hadn’t seen exactly how many of those Jared downed, but it was more than one. 

Jared’s been so painfully quiet these past few days Jensen’s surprised to see him become so chatty and cheerful with alcohol - or he would be, if this wasn’t much more like the Jared he used to know. Jensen watches as the crew gather around Jared, drawn into his orbit as Jensen had been all those years ago. 

But now, Jared’s sitting alone, slumped in the seat in a way that suggests he’s a slow blink away from passing out. The crowd has drifted away from him; the majority have headed back to the hotel, and those who remained are either drunkenly waving pool cues around or trying to secure a bedmate for the night. It’s clear no one is planning to repay Jared’s generosity by helping him get back to his room. 

Jensen watches from his perch on a barstool, debating what to do. Jared won’t want his help, that much is obvious; his stony silence these past few days have made it crystal clear he has no interest in rekindling, or even acknowledging, their past friendship. He’s stayed as far away from Jensen as possible, and Jensen should respect that. But looking around, there’s no one else left here trustworthy enough to take Jared back to the hotel; everyone is either almost as drunk as Jared is, or gives Jensen the skeevy vibes he’d learnt to avoid quickly when he first arrived in LA. 

While Jensen is going back and forth on his options, Jared makes up his own mind. He stumbles to his feet, swaying as he makes his way out of the bar, collecting several bruises along the way. Mind made up, Jensen hops to his feet; there’s alcohol singing through his own blood but not nearly as much, and he steps through the door in time to see Jared slide down against a nearby wall.

“Fuck,” he hisses. 

Jared’s still looking up, as he had been in the bar - still conscious, if barely.

“Jared,” Jensen calls. He stops in front of Jared, who switches his gaze to Jensen’s face. “Jared.”

It takes a couple of minutes for Jared to register his presence. “J’n’sn.” He looks utterly sad, mouth drawing down and eyes widening. Jensen wonders what happened to the cheerful, happy drunk of an hour ago. “So pretty,” he says wistfully.

“What’s pretty, Jay?” Jensen asks, bending down so he can get Jared on his feet. 

“Stars.” Jared answers, gesturing upwards. “Pretty lights.” He looks around, but can’t place any attractive lighting. “Pretty you.”

Jensen’s been called pretty so many times in his life it sets his teeth on edge, but he tries not to focus on that now. Jared’s drunk off his ass, he has no idea what he’s saying.

“The stars are very pretty,” he agrees. “Come on, let’s get you back to the hotel.” He extends a hand, but Jared bats it away.

“No, you’re not my friend anymore.” 

It should sound petty, but Jared’s voice is small and unsure. He sounds so young, and Jensen is forcibly reminded that Jared’s only been allowed to legally drink for a year. Of course he can’t hold his liquor.

“Don’t be silly, Jay,” he says, stern. “I’ll always be your friend. Now come on, time to go back to the hotel.” 

This time, Jared grasps his offered hand, and Jensen pulls him to his feet. He’s expecting more weight, assuming all that height and muscle will require more force, so Jared stumbles into him. They almost crash to the floor, but Jensen’s able to keep them both on their feet. Just. His hands do almost meet around Jared’s waist, he discovers. 

“C’mon, kiddo.” Arm firmly in place, he leads Jared towards the hotel, taking more and more of the boy’s weight with every step. By the time they get to the hotel, his muscles are straining with the exertion of holding Jared. 

“Jesus, kiddo, how’d you get this drunk,” he mutters, although he’d seen the shots keep coming. 

“So pretty,” Jared replies mournfully. He pokes at Jensen’s face. “Too pretty.”

“Right.” Jensen rolls his eyes as he fumbles in Jared’s pockets for his key. He’s never been more pleased to be somewhere low-tech enough to still have actual numbered keys. 

As soon as they’re in the room, he dumps Jared unceremoniously on his bed. Jared bounces gently, looking surprised; but doesn’t attempt to move himself. His eyes droop immediately, not asleep but not aware; ridiculously long legs hanging off the end of the mattress.

There’s a part of Jensen that wants nothing more than to leave him there. Jensen’s already done enough - more than anyone else would have, clearly. But he watches Jared’s face relax into sleep, losing the pinched look he’s worn throughout the shoot, as Jared shifts so he’s sprawled across the bed like a starfish, the way he’d always slept. He’s reminded of the boy who’d been his little brother, and he can’t leave Jared like this.

Fifteen minutes of hard work finds Jared asleep under the covers, shoes and jeans discarded to the side of the bed. The bathroom bin is positioned as close to Jared’s head as Jensen can get it; and there’s water, orange juice and painkillers laid out on the bedside table. 

Jensen surveys the room, wondering if there is anything else he should do; he’s ridiculously unwilling to leave Jared on his own. But short of taking up vigil beside the boy’s bed, there’s no reason for him to stay in the room.

He allows himself one luxury, swiping the hair back from Jared’s face with a hand that barely trembles, before he leaves with one last look back at the bed. Jared slumbers on, a tiny smile curving his mouth. 

^^^^

_It’s been weeks._

_Jensen left at the end of summer. Jared has been back at school for a whole six weeks, and Jensen hasn’t been home yet. More importantly, he’s barely been in touch. A couple of text messages, one postcard and a hurried phone call cut off when Jensen ran out of minutes - that’s the sum total of Jared’s contact with Jensen in the weeks since he’d left._

_It hurts._

_Jared’s lying on his bed, curled up as small as he can make himself. Its less small every day - not only are his limbs getting longer, but they’re aching painfully as they do so, and Jensen’s not here any more to dig his knuckles into the sore muscles of his legs to make the pain go away._

_Jensen’s not here any more._

_Jared turns over, pressing his face into his pillow. He’s spent every night this week in his room, lying listlessly on his bed. He knows he’s worrying his parents. His mom has tried everything to get him to go out and do something, and even Meg has tried to get him to play video games with her. Jeff had called from his dorm in Austin, trying to get Jared to talk about school, but there was nothing to tell. Jensen isn’t there, and that’s everything._

_***_

_It takes another few weeks for Jared to start taking an interest in anything again, and he’d be lying if he said it was anything other than the approach of Christmas, and the likelihood of Jensen’s return that gets him out of bed. He does lie to his mom about it - whether she believes him or not isn’t clear, but she’s so happy to see him downstairs after school she doesn’t jinx it with questions. Jared goes to the library a couple of times, makes plans to complete a school project with friends from his science class, and can barely feel the fog lifting._

_And then he sees the poster._

_“Auditions Thursday: The Crucible. All welcome.”_

_Jared’s thought about getting involved with the drama club before, but last year his social calendar had entirely revolved around Jensen and his friends. Now though, he’s got nothing but free time._

_***_

_Jared’s nervous when he slides into the auditorium, hugging the wall as he looks around. The usual suspects are here; kids who have been a part of drama club practically since kindergarten, and are assured of a part in this production. There’s a few kids who are clearly there to try and make up credit; they’re sitting at the back, looking bored and giggling. The girl on the stage is singing, loudly and badly; Jared takes a tiny little bit of guilty confidence from the fact he can at least do better than that._

_He watches the teacher in charge work her way down the list, calling kids up with false enthusiasm. The stage is wide and empty, each person silhouetted against the deep red of the curtains, nowhere to hide. Normally, his stomach would be churning at the thought of standing up in front of so many of his peers. But Jared can barely bring himself to care about anything at the moment, and definitely not about making a fool of himself in front of some people he barely knows._

_When it’s his turn, he makes his way to the front slowly, his now-long legs taking the stairs at the side of the stage two at a time. Looking out over the auditorium, he’s surprised at the brightness of the lights; they make the crowd fall away, as if Jared exists in his own space. It’s surprisingly liberating._

_Taking a deep breath, he launches into his monologue, not stopping to think about anything other than the words and inflections he’s practised. The world disappears, the faint chatter in the hall fading to insignificance, and Jared becomes another person entirely, pouring his soul into his character. He feels strange, disconnected; and yet at the same time, as if he’s entirely in the right place at the right time._

_He’s breathless when he comes to a stop - not with fear but with adrenaline. He’s found something, that much is clear; what remains to be seen is if anyone else thinks he’s good at it._

_“Thank you, Jared,” the teacher says. She sounds marginally less bored, or at least Jared thinks she does. She’s already onto the next pupil, hurrying them along so she can get back to her real life._

_Still trembling, Jared scurries out of the auditorium and into the school grounds. He doesn’t want to stick around to hear anyone’s thoughts on his audition - he knows from experience how bitchy some of the drama club students can be. If he doesn’t get a part, he wants to hear it from the teacher and move on, without the critique from his peers._

_But he really, really hopes that won’t be necessary. He’s surprised by how much he wants to be a part of The Crucible; more than he’s wanted anything since Jensen left, and far more than he’d thought he would, back when he’d idly considered auditioning in the past. He knows how badly he’s been struggling, as well; the feeling when he was on stage, of butterflies in his stomach and ants marching across his skin, might be what he needs._

_It’s going to be a long wait until the results are revealed._

_***_

_Three months later, Jared huddles behind the curtains, waiting to go out in front of an audience for the first time. The now-familiar nerves are skittering down his spine, tingling in the tips of his fingers, but he’s got the feeling under control now, knows how to harness it to make his performance better. Not that this isn’t different to a rehearsal; the auditorium is full, and he knows somewhere out there is his family, even Jeff back from college for his big debut. The thought makes him feel warm and loved._

_Jensen isn’t there though. Jared forces himself not to think about that. He knows Jensen is busy, that the airfare back from LA is a much bigger deal than the cost of gas for Jeff to drive from Austin. But it still makes him feel choked, panicked; he’d seen Jensen over Christmas, but only for a day, and surrounded by family. It hadn’t been enough (but no amount of time with Jensen was ever enough). So Jared pushes the feeling down and channels the thought processes of Reverend Hale; by far the best coping mechanism he’s found over the past few months._

_The curtain rises, and Jared steps out, Reverend Hale settling over him like a second skin._


	4. Chapter 4

Jared doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry when the show gets picked up.

Dan, his agent, does; he shouts down the phone at Jared, his enthusiasm more than clear. Jared makes a real effort to sound as thrilled, because this is everything he’s been working towards for the last couple of years. All the countless auditions, sleepless nights and rejections have finally paid off.

Jared finds himself the unwilling recipient of a number of lists from Dan, all detailing what he needs to do before he moves up to Vancouver. Some of them are dull - cancel your cleaner, sign contracts - while others should be exciting.

His own mental list only has one item, but it’s more terrifying and less achievable than the multitude of tasks Dan gives him.

_Work out how to be around Jensen._

***

This set immediately has a different feel to it. People know they are here for at least a few episodes, and so they make an effort that had been lacking in California. One of Jared’s lesser worries - that he would find himself as silent as he had been while filming the pilot - is soon allayed by how well he gets on with their make-up artists, and by how much nonsense Kim is willing to allow on set.

That doesn’t happen in his scenes with Jensen, of course; those are intensely creative, the best acting Jared’s ever done; but terribly formal and polite outside of their scripted lines. But once Jared is with the extras or guest stars, he feels free to goof around and be silly, making everyone laugh between takes.

Jared is beyond thrilled when, three days into filming, the set is disturbed a loud honking he’d recognise anywhere.

Ignoring the fact that Jeannie is about to do his hair, Jared jumps out of his seat and heads for the trailer door. He’s so eager to get outside he almost trips down the stairs, slipping in the endless Vancouver rain. But once he’s safe on solid ground, he propels himself across the concrete of the lot, heading towards the source of the noise.

Jordan’s battered old car is in the middle of all the trailers, looking even more disreputable than normal with mud splashed up its sides and even across the windows. The car is best described as mustard-brown - Jared’s heard the colour described other ways, but not in polite company - and it’s possibly as old as he is. But Jordan loves it and won’t be parted from it, so Jared has learned to overlook its downsides.

Jordan’s hanging out the front window, honking obnoxiously on the horn.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jared yells as he runs over. “Stop being such an asshole.” He’s laughing though, giddy at the disturbance they’re making, the sight of his friend, and most importantly, at knowledge of the car’s other occupants.

“Hey JT,” Jordan shouts back. He hops out of the car and they crash into each other for a brief hug, but Jordan doesn’t try to prolong it. He knows exactly what Jared wants.

“Where are they?” Jared mutters. “Where are my babies?” He can hear them whining from inside the car and frustratingly, the sticky door handle jams as usual; but then the door is open and he’s being bowled over onto his ass by his dogs.

The next few minutes are a frenzy of wagging tails, licking tongues and stomach rubs; as his dogs climb all over him, Jared feels like a part of himself has been restored. When he finally hauls himself to his feet again, Sadie and Harley dancing around his legs, the ass of his pants is soaked through and he’s covered in mud. It’s worth it; he’s laughing more than he has in days.

After he’s greeted the dogs, he takes the time for a longer hug with Jordan.

“Thanks for bringing them, you have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

“No worries.” Jordan grins at him, laughing as Harley’s paws land on his shoulder.

“Down, Harley,” Jared shouts, pushing the big dog’s shoulders to try to get him to behave. As he turns, he catches sight of someone standing off to one side.

Jensen’s watching the commotion, standing alone with a small half-smile on his face. Their eyes lock, for a moment, before Jensen turns towards his trailer. It’s the most eye contact they’ve had out of character since Jared arrived, but he still has no idea what Jensen’s thinking.

***

In their second week, Kripke joins the set. Jared had met him briefly, at the audition and again in LA, but he knows this is his time to shine, and to fully understand what Kripke wants from Sam.

Kripke makes the time for a long, involved conversation with him that leaves Jared’s head spinning with ideas and backstory. “Your brother is the key,” he insists. “The show rests on Sam and Dean. The urban legends are just a frame.”

“What about Dad?” Jared asks.

“John will be important,” Kripke agrees. “We’re already trying to write him in. But he pales in comparison to Dean.”

Jared frowns. He knows that already, of course; but having it pointed out in such uncertain terms highlights the fact that Jensen hates him.

“You and Jensen have incredible chemistry,” Kripke says. “How are you two boys getting on?” He looks sharply at Jared, who knows he’s not fooled for a minute.

“Fine, we’re getting on fine.” Jared cuts off his sentence before it can turn into nervous babbling. He senses the word ‘fine’ lingering on his tongue, ready to jump out several more times if he continues.

“Hmmm,” is Kripke’s only response.

***

“You’re heading to Stanley Park for lunch,” Krissy, one of the PAs, tells Jensen in passing.

“What?” he asks. “No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Orders.”

Jensen scowls. That doesn’t sound ominous at all.

His car beeps at him as he’s heading back to his trailer after filming, his driver beckoning him inside. “You’re heading to Stanley Park for lunch,” Javi tells him.

“So I’ve heard,” Jensen replies dryly, but gets into the car regardless. It doesn’t feel like he has a choice.

They speed through light city traffic. Jensen’s familiar with Vancouver now; he’s spent a lot of time here over the last few years, but he always appreciates the way the city is different to LA and San Antonio. They’re soon into Stanley Park, and as ever, Jensen marvels there is such an oasis of calm so close to the centre of town. Trees crowd in from either side, creating the illusion of being much further out of they city than they are. Apart from the road ahead, he can’t see anything but dense foliage, and it suddenly occurs to him this would be a great spot for a murder.

“Hey, Javi, you’re not bringing me out here for them to get rid of me, are you?”

Javi snorts at him.

They pull up eventually on the far side of the park, by the beach. Two small children run shrieking across the sand, chased by their mother; and a lone backpacker reads quietly off to one side; but otherwise it’s almost deserted, lunchtime on a weekday not the most popular time for visitors.

Javi opens the car door and hops out, messing around in the boot while Jensen wonders, again, what the fuck is going on. He’s so lost in his own thoughts he jumps when Javi bangs on the window.

“Out,” Javi says. Jensen scrambles to obey, and as soon as he unfolds from car, Javi shoves a shopping bag full of tupperware into his arms. “Picnic table,” Javi continues, giving Jensen a light shove. “See you in a couple of hours.”

He’s back in the car and speeding off down the road before Jensen can muster the ability to protest.

_What the fuck?_

The giggling of the children on the beach mocks Jensen as he makes his way to the small picnic area, his feet sinking into wet grass. He suspects this is an elaborate prank, this crew’s version of hazing. He’s much more used to having his stuff go missing (Rosenbaum had stolen his clothes while he was in the shower when he joined Smallville). Dumping him out in the middle of nowhere during the working day doesn’t seem all that funny, but he’ll do whatever it takes for everyone to get along.

Huffing, he roots around in the food bag. There’s a ridiculous amount of food, boxes and boxes of different dishes from the catering tent as well as fruit and snacks, and several cans of drink. There’s even a couple of beers. At least he won’t starve while he waits for someone to take pity and collect him.

Why not, he figures, popping open one of the beers. He’s not technically supposed to drink during work, of course, but he’s sure he can make a case for mitigating circumstances if he’s caught. Taking a sip, he settles facing the sea, ready to spend the next couple of hours enjoying the view.

About ten minutes later, Jensen hears the sound of an engine over the rustle of the wind. Turning, he spots one of the nondescript set cars cresting the gap in the dunes. He’s surprised the joke is over so soon - he’d been enjoying the enforced peace - but he begins to pack up the bag, ready to head back to set.

The car idles for a moment when it stops, and Jensen leans back against the picnic table, waiting for the inevitable ribbing from whoever had set up the joke. He’s not expecting Kripke to step out when the door opens; he likes their showrunner, enjoys his sense of humour, but he hadn’t pegged him for this kind of joke.

Another body wiggles out behind Kripke, the smaller of Jared’s dogs barking with delight as soon as she spots the beach.

“Sadie, no,” Jensen hears, before Jared scrambles out of the car; but its too late, Sadie has made it to the ocean and splashed her way in with glee. He’s shocked into laughter; he has no idea what Jared is doing here, but Sadie’s obvious joy is catching.

Jared’s got one hand clamped tightly on the collar of his bigger dog, who is doing a good job of dragging Jared towards the sea. Kripke’s watching the unfolding drama with a grin, not trying to help; Jensen would be offended if it wasn’t clear the big dog would pull the small man over in a flash.

“Harley, stop,” Jared says firmly, but it has little effect. Jared continues to inch his way towards the sea, tugged along behind Harley, before the dog stops so suddenly Jared almost loses his footing. Harley’s head turns towards Jensen as he sniffs ostentatiously, and then he’s changing direction, bringing Jared rapidly towards the table.

“Harley, no, that’s not yours,” Jared says, desperately, and Jensen gives up. He laughs so hard he’s bent over, hands braced on the table, as Jared is forced to approach.

“HA!” Jared says triumphantly, followed by a whine. Jensen follows the sound to see Jared has managed to attach Harley’s lead to a study tree branch; Harley’s pulling hard enough the branch touches the ground, but it’s clearly not going to give. Jared watches for a second, to make sure, before striding off towards the water to find his other recalcitrant pet.

By the time Jared’s made it to the water, yelling futilely for Sadie to return to shore, Kripke has made it to the table.

“Jensen,” he says in greeting, before popping open one of the tupperware containers and digging in. Jensen stares at him, waiting for an explanation, but Kripke is unperturbed.

“Eat up,” is all the acknowledgement he gets. “I’d grab what you want now, if I were you. Have you seen how much that kid eats?”

Feeling a bit like he’s fallen through the looking glass, Jensen reaches for some chicken legs and salad. Now his boss is here, he wonders about finishing the beer; but ultimately, he figures Kripke has brought him here, with no explanation, and that calls for a drink.

They sit in silence, listening to Harley whine and Jared yell at Sadie. The chicken is excellent, Jensen thinks as Jared falls on his ass in the water; their caterers are amazing.

Eventually the free comedy comes to an end and Jared trudges up the beach, dragging a smug Sadie behind him. Jared glares at her as he fastens her leash to the same branch as Harley; she sneezes in response before curling into Harley’s side.

Kripke takes one look at Jared and holds out a beer. Jared’s dripping from a few places, he’s got sand smeared down his pants and what appears to be a small piece of seaweed in his hair. Jensen has to restrain himself from reaching out to pluck it out.

Kripke finishes up the food on his plate, looking pleased, before clearing his throat. Jensen sets his bottle down on the table and Jared puts down the sandwich he’d been making, both of them leaning forwards in anticipation.

“You’re probably wondering why I brought you here,” Kripke starts, looking sheepish. “I wanted to talk to you both about Supernatural, and about how important you both are to its success.” He pauses, visibly ordering his thoughts. “You’re the two leads of a two lead show. That’s not going to change, this is not going to become an ensemble cast. This rests on you.”

Jensen gulps. He knew all this, of course; but having it laid out like this is a different feeling.

“It’s a huge responsibility. We know that; I know that, Kim knows that, the studio knows that. We know how big that must feel, especially when you’re both so young. I think you know the pitfalls more than anyone.” Kripke inclines his head towards Jensen, who thinks of Jessica, refusing to come out of her trailer on the set of Dark Angel. “We’re here to help you navigate that, to cope with it. But there’s only so much we can do.”

He pauses, taking a swig of beer. His gaze flicks between them, and Jensen holds eye contact, wanting to show he’s ready to take on this responsibility, to make Supernatural live up to its potential.

“There’s only so much we can do,” Kripke repeats. “The rest depends on the two of you.” There’s another pause, heavier this time. “And I think it would be easier if you were able to support each other.”

The strain in Jensen’s body ratchets up several notches. He finally understands why Kripke has dragged them both out here; the tension between them, their lack of communication, has been noticed.

“So,” Kripke claps his hands and Jensen feels Jared jump. “We’ve arranged for you to have this afternoon off. I’m going to head back to set, we need to work on some rewrites for tomorrow; the car will come back for you two in a few hours.”

He heads back to the car with a jaunty wave. Jared is apparently just as dumbstruck as Jensen, because neither of them say a word. Jensen isn’t even surprised to see Kripke pull another six pack of beer from the boot and set it on the grass before the car pulls away.

***

Jensen picks up the beer and looks back at the table, ready to raise it in victory. It’s not everyday one’s boss encourages workplace drinking, after all. But Jared’s no longer at the picnic table; confused, Jensen casts his eye around until he spots Jared curled up next to his dogs.

It makes for an adorable picture. Jared has always loved dogs, always wanted one of his own, and Jensen’s so pleased he’s finally achieved his dream. He’d asked around, as casually as he could, and found out the dogs were rescued, but there’s no hint of nervousness or unhappiness in the way they act around Jared. They clearly love him as much as he loves them, even if they aren’t the most obedient dogs he’s ever met.

“Jared, you want another beer?” he asks, walking over. It feels painfully awkward, trying to initiate a conversation after such a long period of silence - not to mention the ridiculous reason they’re out in Stanley Park in the first place. But Kripke is right, and he’s also their boss, so Jensen knows he has to try.

Jared shakes his head, head resting on Harley’s shoulders. Jensen almost curls in on himself; he can’t understand why Jared is so adamantly ignoring him, and it would be so easy to retreat. But this is boss-mandated, he thinks, trying to strengthen his resolve; and more importantly, Jensen himself desperately wants to fix whatever has gone wrong. So he screws up his courage and folds himself down onto the ground next to Jared. Popping the cap of the beer, he sets the bottle down next to Jared.

Its instinct to fold his hands into the Sadie’s fur. She sniffs him lazily, not wanting to move, and satisfied, stretches her neck out for scratches.

“It’s Sadie and Harley, right?” he asks. Both dogs perk up at their names, before deciding no one is holding food and settling back down again. For a hideous moment Jensen thinks Jared is going to ignore him, but Jared nods. “Uh huh.” The sound is muffled against Harley’s fur, but its acknowledgement, at least.

“Kelly said they were rescue dogs,” he continues, pressing on. “How long’ve you had them?”

He’s banking on the fact that fourteen year old Jared had loved dogs so much, he’d talked about them endlessly given the slightest opportunity. He hopes twenty-two year old Jared hasn’t changed too much.

He’s right. “Two years,” Jared mumbles.

“They’re gorgeous,” he says, sincerely. “Such good dogs. If a little naughty.” Sadie gives him some serious side-eye, as if she can tell he’s said something not entirely complimentary. He brushes a bit of seaweed from her leg in compensation.

He fiddles with the label on his beer bottle, not sure what to do next. The children have long gone and the only sounds are the thud of the ocean against the beach and Harley’s not-quite snores. They might as well be the only people in the world; for the next couple of hours they effectively are. Maybe even for the next couple of years, Jensen thinks philosophically. If the show gets picked up, they’ll spend so much time together that there’ll be little room for anyone else.

The wind whips the label from his hands, and Jensen watches it dance along the beach. Even for July, it’s chilly out here; the weak sunlight not really filtering through the trees. Jared must be freezing, he thinks abruptly, remembering how wet Jared got wrestling with Sadie. Sure enough, a close look at Jared’s thin, soaked t-shirt shows shivering muscle just underneath, goose pimples visible down his arms.

“Fuck,” he hisses. He strips off his own hoodie quickly. “Here, Jay.” The nickname slips out without thought, and Jared’s head whips up, eyes wide. He looks suspiciously at the hoodie Jensen’s holding out.

“Take it,” Jensen orders. “You’re freezing.”

“It’s fine,” Jared murmurs, and he does look warmer as a pink flush suffuses his cheeks. But Jensen isn’t fooled.

“Put it on.”

There must be some little-brother left in Jared because he takes the hoodie from Jensen’s outstretched hand and wraps it around himself.

“Properly,” Jensen says sternly. Jared rolls his eyes, but he slides his arms into the sleeves. Something relaxes inside Jensen when he sees Jared in his hoodie, but something ratchets tighter, too.

“Better?” he asks, softer. Jared nods. “Don’t forget your beer,” he says, jerking his chin towards the ignored bottle. Jared picks it up and takes a sip, eyes wary; but Jensen thinks an important bridge has been crossed.

***

 

Jared’s not sure why Jensen is suddenly being so nice to him, but he’s helpless to resist. He lets himself be coaxed into Jensen’s hoodie; it smells familiar, as if Jensen is still using the same cologne, and he lets Jensen coax him back to the picnic table so he can have a proper lunch. Between the two of them, they wrangle the dogs over as well, and with Harley sprawled across his feet and Sadie lying across his lap, snuggled in Jensen’s hoodie, Jared finally warms up.

Conversation is, inevitably, awkward; but at least they’re talking. Jensen asks after his parents and siblings, “Though my mom keeps me up to date,” he confesses, looking sheepish. Jared returns the questions, though much more of the information is new to him; he’d stopped asking after the Ackles’ after a while, finding it too painful.

They touch on mutual acquaintances; Jensen is in far more frequent communication with Tom, for example. “You should come next time we go out for a drink,” Jensen says, eyes firmly on his beer bottle, and Jared murmurs stunned agreement. They have so many people in common Jared wonders, not for the first time, how they’ve avoided each other these past few years. He’s still half convinced Jensen had been doing it on purpose, but now isn’t the time to ask, the rapport between them far too fragile.

“So what did you think of Kripke’s little speech?” Jensen asks. He’s fiddling with a bag of chips now, eyes flicking up to Jared’s only to drop away again. Jared’s the opposite; now he’s got an excuse to look, he can’t take his eyes off of Jensen.

Jared shrugs. “He’s right, it is a big responsibility. We’ve got to live up to that.” He ponders for a moment. “What did Kripke mean about you knowing the risks?”

Jensen scratches the back of his neck. “Umm..” he says, looking as if he’s trying to decide whether to speak. “He was talking about Dark Angel.”

There’s a pause. Jensen peeks at him, as if expecting Jared to know what he’s talking about, but Jared has no idea.

“Umm.. ok.” Jensen takes a deep breath. “Dark Angel kinda went… wrong. Jessica was only nineteen when it started, and she… um… didn’t handle the responsibility very well.” Jensen looks deeply uncomfortable. Jared remembers this - Jensen had never liked to talk badly about anyone. “She was - it was horrible. The whole set was horrible, it was a bit of a miserable experience. It made everyone else be horrible too. It kind of became a bit infamous - that’s why Kripke knows.”

He looks younger, less self-assured, than he has since they met again. If Jensen is willing to say this much, Jared can only imagine how bad things must have been - never mind the fact Kripke thought it was serious enough to warn against.

“We won’t let that happen here,” he says firmly, determined never to be responsible for Jensen looking that sad. “We’ll make this a nice place to work.”

“That’s not quite how it works, Jay,” Jensen says. He’s trying to look amused, but the sadness is still there.

“It could be. We’re the leads, if we’re nice and we treat people well and we make things fun, then everyone else will have to do the same.”

Jensen smiles at him. It’s small, but its real, and Jared counts it as a victory. “Ok,” he agrees. “Supernatural will be a nice place to work.”

“Supernatural will be a fun place to work,” Jared corrects, and that does shock a real grin out of Jensen.

“Supernatural will be a fun place to work,” he repeats. Harley barks in agreement, and Jared laughs.

^^^^

_Two years later, and Jared’s one of the core members of drama club; one of the people who had intimidated him so much when he’d gone to his first audition. Now, he’s busy evenings and weekends; organising events, making scenery, rehearsing. He has a dim understanding that drama club saved him, in some way; but his sense of self-preservation is strong enough to not want to pry into that further. The knowledge and his continuing involvement is enough._

_New kids come to drama club every year. His high school is huge, and there’s no way he could know everyone; he doesn’t even recognise everyone’s face. So he’s used to new people walking through the their door and shyly introducing themselves; it happens every other week and although new members are always welcome, it’s nothing to get excited about._

_Until Aidan walks in._

_***_

_Cleo beats Jared to introducing and inducting Aidan into drama club, and Jared seethes from a distance, not sure why he’s so cross. She tips her head up at him, running her hands down his arm, and a hot flash of something runs down Jared’s spine, indefinable and impossible to ignore._

_It’s not long though before Aidan’s shaken Cleo off, smiling at her politely but making it clear he wants to meet everyone in the club. He’s already smiling and outgoing, shaking hands and clapping shoulders and fitting right in where it had taken Jared weeks. Cleo pouts for a moment, unused to rejection, but she soon picks herself up and slots right back into a new role as Aidan’s unofficial guide._

_Jared is one of the last people to get his introduction. He waits with bated breath as Cleo works the room, surreptitiously wiping his hands on his jeans as he sees them finally approach._

_“Jared!” Cleo’s voice is sugar-sweet and entirely fake. They do not get along, although Jared’s never been sure why. “This is Aidan. He’s decided he wants to join drama club.”_

_“Hi Jared.” Aidan’s smile is big and real, and Jared finds himself beaming back. He can’t find words though, or rather, a million words crash and jumble through his brain, making it impossible to pick the right ones._

_“Hi,” he finally stutters, voice jumping to a height it hasn’t reached in a couple of years._

_Cleo visibly rolls her eyes. “Ok, Aidan, that’s everyone. Let’s take you backstage so you can see what we have to work with.”_

_Aidan smiles at her, hand squeezing her upper arm gently. “Actually, Cleo, I might stay out here for a minute. You head back and I’ll join you in a few.” His voice is soft, but there’s no hint of condescension. There’s also nothing there Cleo could possibly read as interest._

_Cleo rolls her eyes again, this time with outright irritation, but she heads off with more than one backwards glance at Aidan._

_“So…” Aidan stares at him for a moment, both of them lost in awkwardness. Jared scrubs his shoe against the floor, wondering where his usual endless chatter has disappeared to. “So how long have you been in drama club?”_

_It turns out Aidan is the year above Jared, which at least partly explains why they’ve never met. He’s also into sports. “You’re not on any of the teams?” he asks Jared, incredulous. “Not even basketball? You’re really tall.”_

_It’s not something he’s ever considered - he associates sports with Jensen, and has steadfastly resisted any involvement since his friend left. But basketball could be interesting._

 

_Soon, Aidan is sat next to Jared as the group discusses the motivations behind the way Lady Macbeth acts towards the end of the play. He’s got some good insights to share, too; Jared is pleased his new friend is able to contribute already._

_By the end of the session, Jared has made Aidan laugh twice - real head thrown back, full body laughter, not the polite chuckle he makes for other people’s jokes. Warmth flows through him, and he’s sure that has nothing to do with the way Aidan’s leg is pressed against his. It’s probably a complete accident, anyway._

_***_

_Jared spends more and more time with Aidan over the next few weeks, as they get closer and closer to the end of year performance. Drama club takes up all his free time, to the extent he’s reciting lines from Macbeth in his sleep. This is his first big part - he might not be the lead, but MacDuff is crucial, and Jared is taking his responsibilities seriously._

_But that still leaves him plenty of time to think about Aidan. More time than Jared is comfortable with._

_His thoughts circle back to the other boy with alarming frequency, even when they’re not together. They’ve become fast friends quickly - nothing like his friendship with Jensen, there’s no instinctive understanding - but they have a good time together. And sometimes, Jared would swear there’s more. Occasionally, time stands still and tension builds between them, as they sit side by side on the stage or legs tangled on Jared’s couch. Sometimes he thinks he catches Aidan looking at his mouth, or his throat - key indicators of desire, his extensive online reading has told him. But then the moment - and his pulse - will kick over into normal time, and Jared is sure he’s imagining things._

_Thanks to Jensen, Jared’s known he’s attracted to guys since he was 12. Or at least - attracted to Jensen, and with an appreciation for other men. But he’s wondered, these past two years, if that’s it, if Jensen was going to be the only man he’s attracted to in real life (Leonardo probably doesn’t count). But now, there’s Aidan, and Jared wastes countless hours when he should be rehearsing thinking about Aidan, about what it would be like to kiss him, to touch his skin, to have Aidan on top of him. In his better moments, he wonders if Aidan thinks about him too, and if so, how he would ever know._

_Jared is more than aware of the consequences of being gay in a high school in Texas. There are no openly gay students, and he has no intention of being the first. But that doesn’t stop him from wanting to know what Aidan’s mouth tastes like._

_***_

_He finds out right after the first night performance of Macbeth._

_They’re both flying on the high of performing and the acclaim from the audience. There are three more nights to perform, and Jared knows he should be tucked up in bed, resting for the next night, but Aidan had jingled car keys at him and Jared had been powerless to resist._

_They’re out of San Antonio now, pulled up on a quiet road in the middle of nowhere, and Jared is gulping down the celebratory jelly beans Aidan handed him at the end of the show. They’re both laughing, running over the best moments and biggest almost-disasters of the night, all of which seem much less disastrous than they had at the time._

_Jared turns his head to look at Aidan, giggling as he pops another jelly bean into his mouth. With no warning, Aidan’s mouth is warm over his. Jared gulps in shock, nearly choking on the jelly bean, and Aidan pulls back. He looks terrified, as if his whole world is about to crash down around him, and Jared stumbles over his words again as he desperately tries to reassure him._

_“No, no,” he says, reaching out. “Just - surprise - wasn’t,” and then oh fuck it, he grabs Aidan’s collar and pulls him close._

_This time, he’s ready for the feeling. His second kiss is infinitely better than his first. Aidan’s mouth is soft, his lips chapped as they move gently over Jared’s and Jared sighs into it. He has no idea what he’s doing, has to hope Aidan does, because he definitely wants more of this. His hands hover awkwardly before he puts them on Aidan’s shoulders, feeling oddly formal but not wanting to overstep his bounds._

_They brush mouths for a while, but soon Jared’s opening his mouth to the press of Aidan’s tongue, and this is even better; its wet, and warm and slippery, and shouldn’t be this good. But its show-stoppingly amazing, making Jared’s head spin and his hands tighten on Aidan’s shoulders._

_Aidan pulls back. “You can put your hands on me,” he says, eyes shy. “Can I touch you?”_

_Jared nods fervently, and watches his hand slide down to Aidan’s chest. It’s like watching his body move in slow motion, his heart in his mouth as he takes this next step. Aidan’s watching him too, panting from his wet mouth before moving his own hands to Jared’s waist, tugging Jared closer. He’s warm and firm, muscle obvious under his thin t-shirt, and this is what Jared has always wanted. He’s never had any interest in soft._

_The movement sparks something in both of them and suddenly their hands are flying everywhere, frantic with movement. Aidan’s hands fist in his hair, tugging lightly, and sparks skitter through Jared’s body, making him shudder so much he has to pull back._

_“Ok?” Aidan asks, looking worried._

_“More than,” Jared grins. “But… is this ok tonight?” He’s got a whole boatload of healthy ideas he’d like to work on with Aidan, but he’s not sure he can rush into anything._

_“God yes.” Aidan reaches for him again, cupping his face and smiling at him, and Jared relaxes, losing tension he didn’t even know he was holding._

_They kiss for ages, until their mouths are swollen and wet; but eventually they have to call it a night. They both have school tomorrow, after all; not to mention another performance in the evening._

_“Tomorrow evening?” Aidan says, smiling dopily as Jared hops out of the car._

_“Hell yeah!”_

_He watches as Aidan sweeps off into the inky black night, hand on his mouth. His first kiss. It was wonderful_

_Just a shame it wasn’t with Jensen._

_The thought is quicksilver, there and gone, leaving a trail of shame in its wake, but Jared can’t deny the truth of it._

_***_

_He spends most of the summer and the next year lazily making out with Aidan, moving things along slowly as both of them become more experienced. They never move into a relationship though; Jared works hard to keep things casual between them, guilt always burning through him when Aidan makes tiny, oblique suggestions he wants more. Jared sails on past them, telling himself he’s never made any promises, and maybe he’ll be ready for more in the future._

_He always knows that’s a lie._

_Even after three years, there’s still a hole in his heart in Jensen’s image, and Aidan’s not the right shape to fill it._


	5. Chapter 5

Once he’s been given permission to talk to Jensen again, Jared finds he can’t stop. He’s been ordered to, he reassures himself as he knocks on Jensen’s trailer door, again. But that’s another source of worry - what if Jensen is only talking to him, spending time with him out of a sense of duty? It makes Jared’s brain spiral anxiously every time he thinks about it.

He pushes it aside as Jensen yells for him to enter. He’s spending more and more time in here; Harley and Sadie have already destroyed his trailer, so when he wants to sit comfortably he comes to Jensen’s.

“Yo,” Jensen says. “Coffee.” He points towards the counter from where he’s sprawled across the couch. It’s early enough dawn is only tingeing the sky pink; Jared yawns so widely his jaw cracks as he fumbles his way towards the pot. 

He’d been relieved to find Jensen hadn’t changed in this regard; he still requires copious amounts of coffee to function in the morning. It makes their early morning shoots both grumpy and hilarious; Jensen grunting at people until he’s had enough coffee to form words, and Jared sharing fond laughs with the crew over his oblivious head. 

They’ve arrived on set this morning to find their scene pushed back; there are issues with the lighting that are unlikely to be resolved for a while. Jared’s annoyed he’s out of bed for no reason, but it pales in comparison to how Jensen feels.

“Move,” Jared says, pushing Jensen’s knees out of the way so he can fall to the couch. He cradles his coffee, taking slow sips as he watches Jensen try and fail to function. He’s amused to see Jensen’s eyes flicker open before his lashes fall into half-moons across his cheeks; Jensen’s face relaxes as he falls back into sleep before he jerks awake and the process starts again. 

Jared wants to reach out and brush his fingers along those perfect black lashes, one at a time, and then move his fingertip along the crook of Jensen’s nose. He imagines his fingers reaching Jensen’s lips, tracing their soft, beautiful bow, Jensen’s lips even parting …

With a start, he realises he’s slipped off into a dream of his own, delving into feelings he can’t have on set and tries not to have at all. 

To his constant dismay, Jared’s _Jensen problem_ shows no sign of abating.

***

_Fun_ , Jared thinks. _Something fun._

Today has been a shocker of a day. He’s watched Jensen get thrown into a wall more times than he could count; Jensen insisted he was fine, but that many falls had to hurt. They’d followed that scene with one of the more intense scenes they’ve done so far, Jensen scrambling across glass-strewn floor to cradle Jared’s head in his hands. Jared’s breath had caught in his throat, every single time; and he’s sure if he were a cartoon, hearts would have appeared in his eyes.

Their last scene of the day won’t be ready for about an hour; they’ve been dismissed from set. Jared wants nothing more than to crawl into the tiny bed in his trailer and sleep the hour away; but he’d seen shadows in Jensen’s eyes this afternoon, sadness creeping across his friend’s face, and it had reminded him of his promise in Stanley Park.

Jared racks his brains for something fun. It reminds him of watching Jensen study for his final exams in high school, when Jared had tried to plan something every day to put a smile on Jensen’s face. It’s been eight years, and he still feels exactly the same way.

He’s tempted to let Harley and Sadie loose on Jensen; playing with the dogs always cheers Jensen up. But he wants to be more creative. 

He’d love to invite Jensen out for a drink after work, or better yet, back to his hotel room to play video games and chill out; but he’s still not confident enough in the way they are rebuilding their friendship. They’re getting along well, now, but its entirely confined to set; Jensen jumps in his car at the end of every day and speeds away from Jared without a look back. And they're still determinedly avoiding the uncomfortable topic of their past friendship.

So the fun needs to be something they can do on set.

***

He starts with something small and silly. Gummy bears have always been Jensen’s favourite treat; Jared has seen Jensen eat a whole packet with barely a breath between bites, decapitating the little bears with relish. Even now, when Jensen clearly tries to be careful about what he eats, his eyes often stray towards the little golden packet he keeps in the corner of his trailer for emergencies.

So while Jensen is filming one day, Jared sneaks into his trailer with a couple of bags. He lays a trail of bears inside from the front step and around the lounge area before winding back to the bedroom space. Using little bits of sticky tape, he lays a line of gummy bears across the mirror and back towards the bathroom. A quick look outside reassures him for once it’s not raining, so the line of gummies marches up to the small bathroom window. It takes a bit of stretching to get his arm outside, but finally, the full second bag is taped neatly outside onto the wall of the trailer, hidden at the back where Jensen will never see it.

He waits anxiously that afternoon for Jensen to finish his scene. Logically, he knows it’s a harmless, sweet act no one could possibly take issue with. But it’s like the things he used to do for Jensen all the time, when his crush had overflowed and he’d need an outlet. He’s worried Jensen will find it too over-familiar, too reminiscent of a closeness they no longer have. 

Jensen’s scene drags on and on, and no matter how much he tries to reassure himself, he can’t stop freaking out. Several times, he stands up, ready to go and remove all the bears from Jensen’s trailer, before convincing himself to leave them be. 

It’s late afternoon before he sees Jensen walking across the lot, head down. It’s drizzling, and water drips off Jensen’s nose, Jensen uninterested in wiping it away. Jared watches, face pressed to his window as Jensen slowly climbs the steps to his trailer. This was either a great, or a truly terrible, day to have done this, he reflects. 

Jensen pauses when he opens the door. It feels like endless seconds before he bends down. Jared’s fists unclench as he sees Jensen pop the first gummy bear into his mouth, and proceed slowly into the trailer. Still visible through the open door, he curls over a few more times, clearly picking gummies up, before spinning around slowly. 

To Jared’s dismay, he goes back to the open door. “Padalecki,” he yells, “Get over here. I know you’re watching.”

Jared pulls back from his spot at the window as quickly as he can, but he knows he’s been caught. 

“Jared, come here,” Jensen yells again. 

Jared is as powerless to resist as ever. He sidles out of his trailer, dragging his feet as he crosses the lot towards Jensen. He keeps his eyes down, scared to look at Jensen’s face in case he’s annoyed.

He shuffles to a halt at the foot of the stairs into Jensen’s trailer. Jensen’s at the top, and Jared has to turn his head up to look at him. It feels like old times, when Jared had been small enough to tuck his head into Jensen’s neck.

Jensen’s grinning, a bright smile that shows all his teeth. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a gummy bear hunt in my trailer, would you Jared?” 

Jared feels his dimples pop out in reply. “Nope. What gummy bears?”

Jensen’s smile turns devious. “So I guess you don’t want to help me follow the gummy trail then?” he asks.

“Well, no, I didn’t say that.” Jared’s laughing with relief, pleased his plan hasn’t backfired. 

He’s soon inside Jensen’s trailer, watching with delight as Jensen diligently follows the trail, eating every single gummy (except the few he offers Jared). Jensen’s laughing at all the silly places Jared found to hide them, reaching up to the top of the closet or bending down to follow the trail under the bed. 

When Jensen finally reaches the window he’s nonplussed. 

“I’m sure GummySanta has left some more somewhere,” Jared says.

“I thought it was the GummyBunny?” Jensen’s outright giggling now, but he takes the hint and continues searching. It takes him a moment to realise, before he’s throwing open the window with a victorious shout.

He rips the bag open with glee. “Thanks, GummySantaGummyBunny,” he says, stuffing several gummies into his mouth at once. 

Jared’s laughing too, now. Jensen looks at him for a moment, face less guarded than Jared’s seen it since they met at the audition. There’s something soft there, but its gone in a flash when Jensen’s arm shoots out. Jared’s reeled into a headlock, the bag of gummies spilling onto the counter as Jensen’s other hand scrubs through hair, fluffing it into wild curls. 

“Thanks, GummySanta,” Jensen says, hand gentling. Jared grins, despite the dangerous crack opening back up in his heart. 

***

Jared gets more confident after that. Seran wrap finds its way onto Jensen’s toilet seat; Jared has no idea how that happens. Jared’s ringtone is changed to Hit Me Baby One More Time, Britney blaring out mid-scene. That one backfires, though; Jared loves Britney and immediately breaks into a dance that soon has everyone bopping along. But it’s the principle that matters, so Jensen’s body wash gets mixed up with maple syrup.

That kicks things into overdrive. Jared sits on his toilet seat onto jump back up with a yell a few minutes later, an uncomfortable cream making certain parts of his anatomy far hotter than they’re supposed to be. So he switches Jensen’s script before the next episode starts, changing the words enough to cause utter confusion, while keeping the lines believable. Bob is furious, at first because he thinks Jensen is being purposefully stupid, and then because he realises Jensen had been careless with his script in the first place, but eventually, he breaks out into uncontrollable laughter at some of the lines Jared had thought up. He’s less pleased when blue food colouring gets added to Jared’s fash wash, holding up filming for a couple of hours while Jeannie scrubs him clean; the process taking longer than it should because Jeannie has to keeping stopping to laugh.

They get a talk after that one - not as serious as Kripke’s talk out in Stanley Park, but a stern warning from Kim and Bob to tone things down. “I’m all for having fun on set,” Kim says. “We spend so much time together we have to enjoy it. But it can’t get in the way of filming.”

“Keep the pranks harmless, please.” Bob says, tersley. “Jared still has blue ears. We don’t have time to edit that shit out.”

Jared touches his ear self-consciously. He thought they were back to a normal colour. Jensen catches him and giggles. 

Bob clears his throat ostentatiously, and Jensen’s face immediately switches into seriousness. Jared looks earnestly at their producers. He wants to be good, he really does. 

“Oh for fucks sake, Padalecki, put the puppy eyes away.” Kim’s words are short but his tone is fond, and Jared can’t help but grin.

He does want to behave. The problem is, his addiction to making Jensen laugh is as great at its ever been, and he’s not sure he can stop.

***

“Maybe we should keep the competitiveness to video games?” Jensen suggests as they slink out of the office like naughty schoolboys.

“I can kick your ass anytime,” Jared replies. Jensen’s scoff is fuel to the fire, and they’re suddenly racing towards Jensen’s trailer, each determined to emerge victorious in Call of Duty. That marks a new stage in their precarious relationship; every free hour spent trying to save the world in Call of Duty, or trying to run eachother off the road in Mario Cart. They don’t talk much other than constant, prickling insults but each round played together puts a smile on Jared’s face.

The truce holds for a whole week. But when Jared sees the perfect opportunity, he just can’t resist.

***

He sees it on the internet. That’s his excuse. 

Their caterers are great - the food is delicious, and copious - but they do love a good routine. So every Thursday is burgers and fries, and like clockwork, every Thursday Jensen takes a break from his otherwise healthy diet to stuff his face. He piles his plate high, and slathers his fries with more ketchup than Jared thinks should be legal. 

So really, no one can blame Jared for taking the opportunity to add a few spoonfuls of baking powder to the ketchup before Jensen uses it.

He’s picked a good day,Jensen beautiful in just a white t-shirt and light chinos. He watches, breath caught in his throat, safely far away, as Jensen gives the bottle a good shake before opening it. 

It’s better than he could ever have dreamed. Ketchups jets out of the tube, splattering up Jensen’s white shirt, across his face and into his hair. Jensen’s yell is epic, and in his attempt to get rid of the bottle, he turns it downwards so that it spurts all over his pants, covering them in pink, lumpy ketchup. 

There’s immediate chaos as their crew either scream or fall over laughing. Jared’s no better; he’s a little shocked at how well it worked but it doesn’t stop him from doubling over, laughing so hard that tears stream from his eyes. It’s not helped by Jensen’s shocked, red-streaked face; Jensen looks utterly betrayed by his favourite condiment. 

It takes him a moment to gather his wits, but then his gaze focuses on Jared. 

“You are so going to regret this, you little shit,” he says, but Jared can’t take him seriously with ketchup dripping from his nose. His legs give way and he slumps into his seat, watching with glee as Jensen spends the rest of their lunch break trying to get himself clean.

***

Jensen knows better. Really, he does. He’s a grown man; he’s been a professional actor for more than eight years. He’s worked on sets with people of all ages, people who laugh constantly and people who have no sense of humour whatsoever. He knows how to behave on a set, knows how to behave like an adult; and yet, he can’t help himself. 

It’s revenge for the ketchup, obviously; he can’t let something like that go unchecked. But it’s more than that; it’s wanting Jared’s attention on him, a feeling that’s become a worryingly large part of his life these past few weeks. It’s a little (a lot) scary how much he wants those mysterious eyes on him, wants that beaming smile directed his way.

So when Jensen’s in a joke shop in downtown Vancouver, buying whoopee cushions for his little nephew, he can’t help but be drawn to the display of stink bombs. They’re at the back, in a section marked ‘adults only’ - and they’re not at all what Jensen had expected to find when he’d slipped back here. They’re much better.

“Five of those?” The proprietor, a man who looks so pinched and miserable Jensen wonders if he’s ever enjoyed a joke in his life, gives Jensen a wary look. “You don’t need five.”

“I’m good,” Jensen replies, wondering why the man is trying to do himself out of a sale. 

“Your funeral,” the man says. “But trust me, you only need one.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, hands over his money and heads back to set with a spring in his step.

***

He waits until Jared is headed to the makeup trailer before a joint scene. He watches, ducked down below his window, as Jared sends the dogs off with one of the PAs (relieved, because he has no quarrel with Harley and Sadie) and sneaks towards the trailer. He wants the stink bombs to go off while they’re both likely to be on set for a couple of hours, to give the smell time to marinate.

It’s the work of moments to place them around the trailer. One goes into the sofa, another into the bed, and a third into the shower. He throws the remaining two up into the air, letting fate take them to their final destination. The smell is already becoming difficult to bear as he beats a hasty retreat.

The scene drags on longer than he’d anticipated, but that can only be a good thing. He’s on edge throughout, the glee of victory infusing even Dean. But eventually they’re free, Jared bouncing across the lot, starlight caught in his curls. Jensen hangs back, wanting to enjoy the moment; but even from a distance he catches a whiff of something unpleasant far earlier than he’d expected.

“What’s that smell?” Jared’s nose wrinkles adorably, turning up even further than usual. Jensen shrugs, calling on every bit of his acting prowess to avoid jumping up and down with excitement. “What the fuck is wrong with my trailer?” 

Jared’s moving a bit faster now, long legs taking the steps two at a time. He fumbles with the handle for a moment, arm across his nose, before pulling the door open. 

Jensen’s a few feet behind Jared, but even so, the stench nearly knocks him over. Jared reels to one side, coughing over the handrail as he tries to avoid throwing up, and Jensen backs up rapidly, trying to get out of range. 

Jared stumbles back down the stairs, until he’s level with Jensen and the small crowd of onlookers they’ve accumulated. He’s distinctly green, and he has to clap a hand over his mouth every time a new waft of the smell hits them.

“What the fuck,” he asks. 

Jensen can’t hold it in any longer. He lets out a bark of laughter, folding at the waist as he tries to stay upright. Jared looks utterly outraged. The minute he’s steady enough on his feet, he shoves Jensen hard; but it only makes Jensen laugh harder. 

“Oh fuck you,” Jared says. “You better not have ruined all my shit.” He doesn’t sound truly angry though; even through the clammy sheen on his face, Jensen can see the corner of his mouth twitching. 

The wind picks up, sending another pungent blast their way, and Jensen’s laughter turns abruptly into coughing. 

Maybe the guy was right, he thinks; maybe he did only need one. 

***

Three days later, Jensen watches as they tow Jared’s trailer away from set. He definitely should’ve only used one stink bomb.

Jared’s standing at his shoulder, watching the departure of his trailer with remarkable nonchalance. 

“They’ve said it’ll be at least a week til the new one arrives,” Jared says, banging his shoulder into Jensen’s. “Your punishment is that su trailer is now mi trailer. Good luck hiding your gummy bears now.”

Jensen rolls his eyes ostentatiously. “They’re my gummy bears, asshole,” he says, trying for grumpy.

He can’t help feeling incredibly glad he used all five stink bombs after all. 


	6. Chapter 6

“I’m old enough to drink now,” Jared had excitedly told Jensen a few weeks into filming, when conversation was starting to become a bit more casual between them.

Jensen had looked him up and down, taking in the height, the breadth of shoulders on top of a slim torso.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t been sneaking into bars for years. Who the hell was ever gonna card you?”

Jared had blushed a fetching scarlet, much to Jensen’s amusement. 

“Got carded all the time,” he’d mumbled. “Looked really young.”

“I bet you were adorable,” Jensen replied, and meant it; Jared had even been an adorable teenager. He’d been so busy remembering he hadn’t seen the push coming, and landed in a puddle with a splash.

***

Almost without noticing, he finds himself sharing a beer with Jared most Friday evenings, crammed together on the sofa in his trailer as they compete over their latest game. They work late, their schedule gruelling, but Jensen remembers Jared’s firm insistence on fun. He fights to make their Fraturdays less demanding than they are, to inject levity wherever possible, because otherwise, he thinks he might collapse. Not to mention every time he makes Jared smile, something viciously pleased uncurls inside him, scratching to be let out.

Fraturdays turn into ordinary Fridays without conscious thought, and somewhere in the middle of filming episode eight (or is it nine, Jensen is so tired he can barely think), he’s out with Jared, crammed together into a booth so tiny and a bar so crowded that Jared is practically in his lap. 

Jared’s a loose, affectionate drunk, Jensen has discovered; his natural bounciness mellowing out until he’s a bundle of love that needs constant touch. He’d been like that as a teenager, Jensen remembers; always curled up into Jensen’s side, and still cuddling with his mom whenever Jeff wasn’t there to mock him for it. Right now, he’s got his arm looped around Jensen’s shoulders, the other hand gesturing wildly as he described Harley’s latest mischief. 

Jensen chuckles, his chest brushing against Jared’s side with every breath. He’s astonished, and yet not, at how quickly he’s settled back into this, letting his barriers down low enough for Jared to sneak inside. 

The music changes, the bass pounding even deeper than before; and a new group of happy, laughing people pours into the already overcrowded space. Jared’s wide-eyed with joy at whatever the new song is, his teeth glittering white in the grimy light. Jensen watches Jared’s pulse tripping in time to the beat as Jared tips his head back to finish his beer, licking the shine from his lips once he’s finished. 

Jensen would have to be blind not to notice Jared is no longer the little kid he’d known. But noticing is all it is, Jensen reassures himself. Nothing more to it than idle observation. A quick glance around shows a fair few other men noticing as well, much to Jensen’s annoyance; his friend isn’t a piece of meat to be stared at.

“Jensen,” Jared says insistently, cupping the back of Jensen’s head to turn his face back to Jared. Jensen recognises the tone as one that means pay-attention-to-me-now; he’d ignored it back in the day at the risk of extreme puppy dog eyes being turned his way.

They’re nose to nose when Jensen turns back, first-stage puppy eyes locked on him. Jensen’s breath stutters, body preparing itself for something unknown, something momentous. 

“Fags.”

It’s a loud voice, clearly audible over the noise of the crowd and the vibration of the music. Even so, Jensen doesn’t believe what he’s hearing for a moment.

“Fucking disgusting fags,” the voice says again, and this time reality asserts itself through the stiffening of Jared’s body, the way he goes tense in Jensen’s arms. Jensen can barely process the insult; he’s so far from thinking of himself as gay when he’s with Jared - his little brother - he can’t imagine anyone else could think otherwise.

The tall, thick man with razor short hair and bad taste in polo shirts, looming aggressively over their table, clearly does.

“What, you not gonna say anything?” he taunts. “Because you know it’s true.”

Behind him, a couple of other equally unattractive men titter. The people to the side of Jensen, who seconds ago had been pressed against him as close as Jared, slide away into suspiciously free space, sensing trouble. 

“Typical,” the guy sneers. “Too pussy to defend yourselves.”

Jensen’s brain is coming back online, fighting through the beer and the shock to formulate a response when Jared pipes up next to him.

“Just cos you can’t get laid, don’t take it out on other people who can,” he says, far too confident for his own good. He stands up and stretches to his full, impressive height; taller than their assailant and everyone around them.

To his credit, the homophobic asshole doesn’t back down.

“Don’t try and change the subject, we were talking about how disgusting you and your little boyfriend are.”

That’s enough for Jensen; he might be smaller than Jared, but there is no way he’s little. He stands, and it’s as if the action kicks the tension into overdrive, the two sides suddenly much more matched. There’s a much bigger space around them now, but no bouncers have arrived to investigate what might be disturbing it. 

“I might be small, but at least I’m not as misiscule as your dick.”

There’s a pause, a held breath, as the bar collectively tenses on the edge of calamity. For a brief, blessed second, Jensen thinks that’s it; the guy has worked out he’s outmatched (or that he’s a giant, screaming asshole) and will take his aggressive over-compensation somewhere else.

The tension snaps, an elastic band pinging the asshole towards Jensen’s face, and for a while, everything goes blurry. 

***

When Jensen next has leisure to think, he’s squashed into the corner in the back of a taxi, Jared sprawled across his chest. They’re both shirtless - _odd, Jensen thinks_ \- and he’s absently dabbing at his nose with what appears to be his rolled up t-shirt. His other arm is wrapped securely around Jared, the small hairs on his arm almost sticking to the damp warmth of Jared’s stomach.

Jared’s also got his left hand to his nose, but his balled up shirt is a lot more sodden with blood than Jensen’s. His heart kicks uncomfortably at the sight, his jumbled brain trying to fit together a blur of shaky images.

Jared’s other hand is curled tightly to his chest. It’s too dark in the taxi to see if anything is wrong, but the way Jared is holding it, cradled tight, makes Jensen’s stomach lurch. Jared’s breath is trembling through his body, his chest hitching and then speeding back up. Jensen feels the same, awareness coming in bursts and starts.

He remembers the asshole and his horrible polo shirt. He remembers his fist connecting with a crunch, his boot with a soft grunt. He remembers yells and screams, and the copper of blood streaming down his face. 

He remembers sensing freedom, and turning back to find Jared pinned, a fist drawn back. There’s a blank again after that. 

The taxi draws to an abrupt stop, and Jensen recognises his apartment building. The building Jared has never been to, which means he must have given the address. Another blank.

Jared struggles to get out of the car for a minute before Jensen snaps to. “Wait,” he says, sliding out from under the other man. He pays the driver quickly, an extra large tip for taking them in the state they’re in, before striding around to Jared’s door.

“C’mon, kiddo,” he encourages, taking the blood-soaked t-shirt and gently levering Jared out with his good arm. Jared sways when he stands and Jensen would swear he’s trying to tuck his head into Jensen’s neck if the thought wasn’t so ridiculous. Jared’s far too tall now.

 

They stumble their way into Jensen’s apartment, after a few minutes spent outside while Jensen fumbles for the keys. He’s tempted to flick all the lights on when they go in, more than ready for a full view of Jared’s injuries, but something convinces him to keep it muted, so he doesn’t startle Jared (or himself, if he’s being honest).

He sinks back against the kitchen counter, legs weary, and turns to Jared. His friend is paler than normal, evident even in the low light, and there’s more blood than Jensen had realised. Patting at his own face shows he’s clearly no longer bleeding, so it’s on him to take care of Jared.

It feels like a monumental effort to move again, but Jensen’s need to protect Jared, hardwired into him as a teenager, is enough to overcome the lethargy stealing through his body. Wetting a cloth, he steps close, but Jared’s head is stupidly far above his own. 

“Gonna have to scoot down,” he murmurs, eyes cast down. Jared shifts his legs apart, his height dropping until they’re nose to nose - or would be, if the shirt weren’t still in the way. He’s irritated with it suddenly, and pulls it away from Jared’s face, tossing it into the sink.

Jared’s nose is already a swollen mess, blood dripping sluggishly from his nostril and bruises already blackening under his eyes. Jensen tips Jared’s head from side to side, looking at different angles, but, “It’s not broken,” he says, “At least I don’t think. Gotta get some ice on it, though.”

Jared’s eyelashes flutter in answer, barely a response, his breath still choppy. His hand is still cradled against his chest.

“Lemme see,” Jensen demands, but softly. There’s barely room between them for Jared to offer his hand for inspection, but he does so obediently when asked. 

The knuckles and two of his fingers are swollen an angry purple, his wrist shiny, red and miles bigger than usual. Jensen hisses, running his finger gently along the joint, feeling the heat radiating beneath it; and Jared echoes the sound, flinching minutely. 

“Sorry.” Jensen’s so, so contrite; he’d been too lost in his own horror to be sufficiently careful. Jared makes a little noise, one Jensen recognises as dismissal. His hand stays resting in Jensen’s careful palms.

“We should go to the emergency room,” Jensen says, worry starting to replace the tiredness in his bones, his pulse kicking back into the land of the living. Jared makes that sound again. “We should, Jay, your hand is busted pretty bad.”

“See in the morning,” Jared mumbles. A quick glance at the oven clock tells Jensen its almost two am; that might not be a bad idea. 

“Ok, but.” He pauses for a moment, trying to make his brain work. “Let me strap it up for tonight.”

Jared nods, still slumped against the cabinet. Jensen takes a step back, trying to remember where he’d stashed the first aid kit his mom insists his pack every time he moves. As soon as Jared’s out of touching distance, Jensen feels his body move more freely, the stuttering slowness that had kept them so close together gone, replaced with speed as he hurries to get back.

He thanks his mom’s foresight as he pulls a bandage out of the kit, along with a few other items. They’ll need to ice it first, he thinks, brain finally coming back online; so when he returns to the kitchen, he pulls the freezer open, scooping out a bag of frozen vegetables he’d bought in the vain hope he might cook one day. 

Jared’s got his head tipped back against the upper cabinet now, eyes closed. He’s pale still, apart from the bruising and the drops of scarlet blood below his nose and on his chin. 

“Hey, no,” Jensen says, “Head tipped forwards if your nose is bleeding. Did no one ever teach you anything?”

Jared’s eyes open slowly, wide mouth tipping in a grin that makes a small cut on his lip crack open, more ruby to add to the rest. “You were supposed to teach me that stuff,” he says. Jensen feels the accusation shoot straight to the part of him he keeps squashed down, but Jared’s soft smile says he might not have meant it as an accusation at all. 

Within seconds, Jensen’s back in front of him. “Keep this on your wrist,” he instructs, handing the bag over. Jared takes a deep, indrawn breath as he settles the weight on to the sore joint, but keeps his eyes steady on Jensen. 

Jensen busies himself with the cloth he’d brought, wiping up the blood on Jared’s face and chest. There’s still far more than he’d like, given the state of the abandoned t-shirt; but at least the flow is slowing. Jared looks more presentable once the immediate bloodiness of his face is diminished, but only barely; there’s going to be hell to pay on set on Monday. 

They stay like that while the ice does its job, chest to chest as Jensen watches every tiny movement Jared makes. They should move to the couch, or he should put Jared to bed; but Jensen can’t bear to move. He catalogues every tiny move Jared makes, comparing them to the knowledge he carries inside: the flicker of his lashes, the tiny twist of his mouth, the flush on his collarbones, the faint movement of his bangs with every breath. He counts the moles on Jared’s face and neck and chest, checking them off against a tally he’d never realised he kept. 

Jared’s quiet; more than Jensen’s ever seen. He’s warm, too; his leg pressed against Jensen’s radiating heat, a contrast to the occasional brushes of ice against Jensen's bare chest. Jensen has no idea how long they stand like that, both bone-tired and shocky, needing the time to decompress. Eventually, Jensen recollects the second part of his plan; without breaking their silence, he takes the vegetable bag out of Jared’s hands. 

Jared’s eyes fly open, all pupil when they meet Jensen’s. Their eyes stay locked as Jensen carefully lifts Jared’s wrist, wrapping it in the bandage by touch alone, his fingers smoothing repeatedly over soft skin. 

Jared’s breath has sped up, his chest rising and falling faster than before.

“Am I hurting you?” 

It’s the only question worth breaking the silence for. 

“No.” Jared’s reply is a whisper, shaky and drawn out. He sounds young and unsure, as if he’s placing himself entirely in Jensen’s hands. 

Jensen carefully tucks the end of the bandage under the wrapping, but he doesn’t - can’t - let go. His thumb is moving on Jared’s inner forearm, the skin there delicate and silky.

“Jen.” 

Jared’s voice wavers, questioning. They’re nose to nose, chest to chest, stomach to stomach and thigh to thigh, pressed tight and warm. Jensen’s heart is thundering, the sound echoing around his skull in thunderclaps, almost loud enough to cause him to fall of this cliff edge. 

It hangs in the balance for a moment, what could be and what should be; and then -

_Little brother._

_(You could hurt him)._

_Best friend._

_(He could hurt you)._

_Co-star._

_(This could destroy you)._

“You should go to bed,” Jensen says, stepping back. “Take mine, I’ll take the couch.”

Jared’s body visibly crumples. “Ok, Jensen,” he whispers. He pushes past Jensen on wobbly colt-legs, cradling his arm to himself. 

^^^^

_Jensen finally books consistent, regular, well paid work when he lands a spot on Days of Our Lives, after more auditions than he thought possible. It takes him a while to learn how to control his instinctive urge to roll his eyes at the fact it’s a daytime soap, but he’s an actor after all; he has the technique down in a week._

_And it’s not as if a soap is anything to be ashamed of, he reassures himself. Its steady work, which is more than can be said for what most of his peers have secured._

_His colleagues coo over him throughout the entire first episode he films. “Oh, so pretty,” the make up artist sighs. “I love it when they give me something good to work with.”_

_“So young,” one of the older crew members says, pinching his cheek painfully hard._

_“So young,” one of the actresses says in a different tone of voice, pinching somewhere else entirely. Jensen scoots away quickly, but says nothing. He’s used to it by now._

_There’d been some muttering when he signed the contract that further episodes were dependent on the success of his first show; but Jensen knows, even as he wraps, he’s knocked it out of the park. He’s not arrogant, but he knows his acting has been excellent (especially when compared to some of his co-stars) and he’s been polite and respectful to everyone. There is no reason not to expect a recall._

_He’s right. He’s back on set within a few weeks, with episodes booked well into the next year._

_***_

_Things are different, second time round. There’s less cooing this time, and a much greater sense that his new colleagues are assessing him. The set is legendary for rivalry, even in an industry where bitchiness is the norm; and Jensen knows, now he’s back, he’ll have to find his place in the pecking order._

_He’s careful not to upset anyone. He’s made his reputation so far on being everyone’s friend; knowing the names of the crew before the names of the wider cast. Its served him well before, and he sees no reason not to adopt it here. Not to mention most crew members are significantly less likely to be raging dickheads. Sometimes he even finds someone to add to the small group of people he can bear to socialise with._

_That’s intensely unlikely here, though. The crew regard him with suspicion when he tries to be nice (it’s not him, Jensen reassures himself; it’s that they’ve never experienced a cast member behaving that way before); and the cast look down their noses at him for slumming it._

_Jensen is soon lonely and isolated, missing his home friends more than ever. He dashes off a quick postcard to Jared in between scenes; but their schedules are so wildly different it’s impossible to find time to call his friend._

_By the last day of filming, Jensen feels incredibly gloomy. It’s a rare grey day outside, and he’s in his tiny trailer, wearing a robe and his boxers as he waits to go to wardrobe for his next scene. He’s thumbing idly through an old sports magazine while he watches three of the cameramen laughing outside. He knows they’d fall silent if he joined them, and it makes him sad and furious in equal measures._

_As he watches, they do fall silent, looking ahead to someone approaching. One of them gives a short, desultory wave; the typical greeting between cast and crew who can at least tolerate each other._

_Jensen watches for want of anything better to do, slumped against the window. He sees legs first; strong thighs in distressed black jeans. Jensen’s breath catches in his throat as the rest of the man comes into view; his leather jacket setting off strong shoulders and dark hair framing a sharply handsome face._

_Jensen sits up so quickly he bangs his head on a cupboard. Wincing, he casts about for a mirror and some clean clothes, because his day got a hell of a lot more interesting._

_***_

_Things progress quickly. Austin is funny and kind, if not as quick as Jensen, and he looks at Jensen with awe, every single minute they’re together. Jensen’s in his bed that first weekend, and the next too, spending hours and hours lost in Austin’s body. They laugh a lot, watching movies and making a mess in the kitchen, getting distracted while cooking. By the third week, Jensen decides to forgo his weekly trip to the cowboy bar; he doesn’t need the money he used to make riding the mechanical bull anymore, nor the casual sex that inevitably followed._

_They’re not ostentatious about things on set; they both agree the vast majority of their colleagues are untrustworthy, but they don’t make a big deal out of hiding it, either. Neither of them want to give anyone that much power over them._

_Before Christmas, Jensen’s lounging in Austin’s bed, watching as his boyfriend moisturises his body before sleep. The constant need for high levels of personal care is one of Jensen’s pet peeves about his industry; he’d much rather Austin was already in bed with him._

_Austin’s watching him in the mirror as he rubs cream into his chest; Jensen stretches, in a move that always gets results. But Austin is preoccupied; there’s a small frown line between his eyes and he’s biting his lip._

_“What’s up?” Jensen asks. He runs a hand down his stomach, stopping short of the sheet artfully covering his cock, hoping it has the desired effect; but Austin’s eyes don’t follow as they usually would. Something is wrong._

_Jensen sits, resting his elbows on his knees as he studies his boyfriend. Austin is gorgeous, his strong shoulders flexing as he moves, golden skin gleaming. “Want me to do your back?” he asks. Austin hands him the jar of body butter and Jensen stands, letting the sheet drop away. Smoothing his hands over Austin’s back, he makes sure every inch is moisturised to perfection._

_“Want to tell me what’s wrong?”_

_Austin huffs. “Nothing gets past you, huh.”_

_“Nope, I’m a good, attentive boyfriend. So come on, ‘fess up.”_

_Austin closes his eyes for a moment. “It’s nothing.”_

_Jensen digs his fingers into Austin’s shoulders. “This tension doesn’t say nothing.”_

_“It’s not… anything important. I was thinking about Christmas.”_

_“What about it?”_

_Austin’s muscles tense back up again, and he can’t meet Jensen’s eyes in the mirror._

_“Just...I wish I could spend it with you.” There’s a pause, and when Jensen doesn’t rush to fill it, Austin continues. “I wish we could stay here, and have Christmas together.”_

_Jensen feels a swoop of happiness as a blush steals across his cheeks. He keeps moisturising as he thinks about Christmas at home. His mom and dad, and Church on Christmas Day; the same food they’ve had every year for as long as he can remember, sitting prim around the table in their best clothes. Christmas at home is lovely, something he looks forward to; but then he imagines what Christmas could be like here with Austin. They could stay in all day, order takeout and lounge about in their pyjamas; no need to go to Church to be told he’s a sinner or to do anything he doesn’t want to do._

_“Would you really want that?” he asks, tentatively. His hands move into Austin’s hair, tugging the last of the day’s gel out of it._

_“Yeah. I would. I love Christmas with my family, but… we could make our own Christmas.”_

_Jensen’s heart pounds against his ribcage. Things have been getting more and more serious between them, and he sometimes feels like a lovesick fool, imagining what their future could be like together; but this is beyond his expectations. Bending, he wraps his arms around Austin’s waist and presses a kiss to the side of his neck._

_“Let’s do it. My mom will be cross, but she’ll understand eventually.”_

_Austin’s beaming smile is worth the worry over his mom’s reaction; and Jensen continues to trail kisses up Austin’s jaw until their mouths meet._

_It’s not until later, when he’s lying sated in bed, Austin’s arm draped across his chest, that he thinks of Jared. He’d promised his friend he’d be back for Christmas, that he and Jared could finally have some quality time together after a year and a half of hurried phone calls and flying visits. His gut churns with guilt, but he reassures himself he’ll find a way to explain._

_***_

_Almost a year later, rain pounds against their feature windows as Jensen watches Austin pack a suitcase. He’s throwing things in with little care for what they are or whether they’re useful. Jensen’s in shock, unable to believe everything had changed so fast; he’s curled on their bed, hands fisted in the covers as he tries not to scream._

_“Austin,” he pleads. “Let’s think about this.”_

_“We don’t have time to think about this.” Austin’s voice is clipped. “I’m going to stay with my parents for a while. We can decide what to do about the apartment once everything has settled down.”_

_“We do have time,” Jensen insists. “One meeting with the network and you want to throw everything away. We should stop and think.”_

_“Think about what, Jensen?” Austin’s voice is bitter, but he finally turns to face Jensen. “Think about how we could lose everything because of this? How we could lose our careers? I’m not out to my parents. I could lose my family over this.”_

_The scream gathers in Jensen’s throat, wanting to be let free._

_“They’re flexing their power,” he says, wild. “Just want us to know they know. They’re not going to do anything.”_

_Austin’s laugh is brittle. “Are you sure about that?”_

_Jensen’s not sure, not at all; but he’s desperate to believe it. There has to be a way for him and Austin to stay together, without losing their careers._

_His silence answers for him. “Thought so,” Austin says, with that painful laugh again. He tosses a last item in his suitcase and zips it up. He scans around the room, checking to see if he’s left anything crucial, before pulling out the handle on his suitcase and rolling it towards the door. Before he walks out of their bedroom, he stops for a second, and Jensen sits up, hoping he’s changed his mind._

_Austin reaches out, hand trembling, to run his fingers across a photo of them together. It’s from last Christmas, and they’re laughing in front of their tree, Jensen sucking on a candy cane while Austin licks his face. Neither of them had thought the picture suitable for more public areas of their apartment, especially not with the knowledge of what had followed._

_For a brief moment, Jensen thinks Austin is going to take the photo, to carry some reminder of their time together with him as he walks out of Jensen’s life. But Austin pulls his hand back, scrubbing his hand across his face. Their front door shuts silently behind him, leaving Jensen to the echoing emptiness of what had once been their home._


	7. Chapter 7

Bits of that night are blurry, soft around the edges like the remains of his bruises. But the majority is sharp, sight memory combined with touch memory combined with heart-stopping emotion in a series of images so clear, Jared could paint them. His bruises are tinged green and yellow now, and sometime he presses down on them, remembering the touch of Jensen’s hands across his body, his care and tenderness. Jared remembers his heart pounding, his mind flying with Jensen so close; but he’s more than sure he hadn’t given away how turned on he was.

So there’s no reason for Jensen to be giving him the cold shoulder. 

And he’s not, exactly. He still talks to Jared, they still play the occasional video game or knock back a beer in between takes. There are no more pranks, and Jared knows that’s down to the telling off Jensen got after destroying his trailer; but they still join together to tease their crew. But there’s a space, both literal and metaphorical, where there wasn’t one before.

Jared’s still wracking his brains, trying to work it out, when their newest cast mate walks on to set. 

*** 

Jeffrey Dean Morgan is a force of nature. “Call me Jeff,” he tells Jared immediately, but always refers to himself as Jeffrey. Within two days he knows all the details of Jared’s life, and he’s shared as much about his own, opening up with an expansiveness that leaves Jared reeling. He’s a delight to be around, laughing so hard he has to bend over; before giving Jared tips on how to improve his scene, or checking up on him at the end of a long day. 

Overall, Jared thinks they could be really good friends, despite the age difference. There’s only one thing stopping him from pinkie swearing to be friends forever with Jeff: the way he flirts with Jensen.

***

Jensen sometimes feels like he’s slept with at least half the gay men (and the ones in denial) in Hollywood aged under 40. Before coming to Vancouver, he’d been getting to the point where all he’d seen at parties were familiar faces or men so young he’d felt pervy even crossing them off his mental list, as if thinking about them in the context of sex were enough to taint them. He’s never wanted to go back for seconds, so he was glad of another chance to relocate to Vancouver and a different pool of potential. 

Of course, that was before he’d realised he’d be working sixteen hour days, often six days a week, leaving him little time for extracurricular activities. He’s managed though, finding a few opportunities when he has the time, keeping his eyes open for new options.

Despite his less than chaste approach to life, he’s always had certain rules. No kids - no one under age, but he’s always been uncomfortable with anyone too much younger than he is. No studio execs for any studio he’s working for - he still remembers that uncomfortable, aborted ‘audition’ at one of the major offices, and the way it had made him feel unclean all over for weeks. And definitely, definitely no sleeping with his co-stars or crew. That was rule number one, implemented after the Austin fiasco, and followed without fail.

Jeffrey Dean Morgan is the closest Jensen’s ever come to breaking that rule - and he’s still not sure he won’t. Something had crackled between them from the beginning, mutual attraction all too obvious to both of them; and Jeff had to turn out to be a nice guy as well. He’s fantastic in the role; managing to pull off John Winchester’s complicated mix of caring, duty and authority; and Jensen knows he’ll soon be back.

Jeff’s second episode is much the same as his first. He and Jensen circle each other, flirting warily, both aware of the consequences but drawn to one other nonetheless. He can see Jeff trying for distraction, making friends elsewhere. Jeff spends a lot of time with Jared, who looks at him with such stars in his eyes something uncomfortable twists in Jensen’s belly. 

It’s partly because Jeff so clearly loves Jared’s dogs. “I wish I could bring my girl up here with me,” he tells Jared early in his first episode as he fluffs Sadie’s coat. Jensen’s sitting off to one side, watching them from under his lashes as he reads his script. 

“You should!” Jared replies excitedly as he tries to wrestle the ball out of Harley’s mouth. Harley has a big problem with catch - he loves to run for the ball but hates to let it go. “Bring her! Then they can all play together!”

“I dunno, not sure she’d like the drive.” Jeff’s commuting in from Seattle, and it’s taking a toll on him; he looks fantastic but there are deep shadows under his eyes. It just makes him hotter, in Jensen’s opinion.

“Try it,” Jared urges. 

Jeff is apparently as unable to say no to Jared as anyone else on set; when he arrives for his second episode, he’s accompanied by excited barking as Bisou bounds towards Jared, her new best friend. 

Set is chaos that day, and Jensen’s not sure when he last laughed so much. He watches the joy on Jared’s face, feeling it echo on his own, as the dogs cause more and more mischief. He spends most of his lunch break trying to wrangle the dogs back into their trailers; having new friends has given all three a boundless energy, and more importantly increased speed, than Jensen has ever seen before. 

Through it all, he can feel Jeff’s eyes on him. 

***

The moon shines over set, the only illumination as the lights flicker off one by one. Cars peel out of the parking lot, tires screeching, crew members desperate to get home to family or to cram in a few hours sleep before tomorrow’s early call. They’re due back in a few hours, tonight yet another evening that had gone far later than planned. 

Jensen should feel the same. He should want his bed more than anything in the world, should want to bury his head under the pillow and pull his covers up around his shivering shoulders, and sleep like the dead for the few hours he has the chance. 

But the body wants what the body wants, and right now, Jensen’s body wants something else entirely. 

Adrenaline is still coursing through him, his heart pounding and mouth dry. He might be walking through the parking lot, but he can feel Jeff pressed over him, caging him in and heating him up. He usually prefers to be the dominant partner in bed, but he’s more than willing to switch when the right guy comes along, and boy is Jeff the right guy. 

Thinking about it makes his knees feel a bit weak. It’s a stronger sexual reaction than he’s had to anyone in years (apart from _that_ night, but Jensen’s determined not to think about that). He feels a bit like he’s drunk, blood moving faster than it should; and he pauses for a moment, leaning against the nearest trailer to catch his breath.

Despite the almost-industrial landscape around him, there’s a weird beauty hanging over their location. They’re far enough out of Vancouver there’s no noise at this time of night except a couple of birds - either nocturnal or early risers - and the rustle of the trees that keep them hidden from set stalkers. The stars form a bright canopy above him as Jensen looks up, hands curled into fists as he tries to get a grip on himself. 

“Jensen.” Jeff’s voice doesn’t so much break the silence as melds with it, his low drawl chiming in with the movement of the trees. Jensen’s body reacts with a shudder, eyes lifting to find Jeff striding across the lot towards him. 

He knows what’s going to happen, can see it in the purposeful way Jeff’s legs eat up the space between them. There’s a bare sliver of space between them when Jeff stops, his chest rising and falling and eyes locked on Jensen’s. His hands crash into the trailer either side of Jensen’s shoulders, echoing their position earlier. 

“Tell me no.” His voice is at the edge of a growl.

Jensen thinks about answering, and he thinks about waiting, but he’s no wilting flower. Reaching up, his hands cup the back of Jeff’s head, pulling him down until their mouths meet. 

There’s nothing traditional about this first kiss. It’s been too long coming, too long held back. It’s wild, immediately rough, Jeff’s teeth biting his lip and Jeff’s tongue sweeping into his mouth. This time, Jensen’s knees do buckle, but Jeff’s there, hands firm on his hips keeping him upright. Jensen’s pressed so tight back against the trailer he’s going to have lines digging into his back, and he’s pressed so tight against Jeff’s hard cock in front he might have the imprint of that on his thigh as well.

Gathering his wayward thoughts, he pushes hard at Jeff’s shoulder, but keeps his fist tangled in Jeff’s hair so he doesn’t get the wrong idea. 

“Gotta find somewhere better,” he says, pleased he can form full sentences. Jeff nods immediately in agreement, bending for a swift bruising kiss before grabbing Jensen’s hand. 

They both turn towards Jensen’s trailer, the lot spread out luminous in front of them. Jensen just has time to be thankful it’s so late and everyone has gone when he spots a shadowed figure by the last trailer. 

The silhouette is unmistakable - long legs and wild hair and broad shoulders. Jensen only has time for a screaming obscenity to ricochet through his brain before Jared turns, running away as fast as those legs will carry him. 

***

Jared doesn’t slow down until he reaches the far side of set, and he’s run as far as he can go. Slumping down in the doorway of one of their hangars, he buries his face in his hands. 

The scene keeps flashing in his brain. Jensen and Jeff, Jeff and Jensen - everything he’s been dreading come true. His brain spirals, envisioning a future where they’re a couple, so happy together and laughing all the time. A future where they become so wrapped up in each other that whatever small chance he had of recovering his friendship with Jensen (never mind anything more) disappeared because Jensen was so in love with Jeff.

Of course Jensen would pick Jeff - the hotter, more experienced, ridiculously sexy, successful older man. Jared never had a chance, really. 

A few hot tears drip through his hands and onto his knees, seeping out despite Jared’s determination to keep them inside. Crying isn’t going to help him now. He has to man up, to accept Jensen is lost to him forever. 

Jared pulls himself upright before he can descend into outright sobbing. Scrubbing at his eyes, he stumbles across the lot until he finds his car with his driver snoozing in the front seat.

“Take me home, please,” he says, voice thick and unsure. 

His driver gives him a sharp look, but compiles; after all, he’s used to actors. Jared rests his head against the window and hopes he can hold it together until he gets back to his hotel room. 

***

Jared’s disappearance kills the mood. 

“Well, shit,” Jeff says, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. 

Cold guilt washes through Jensen, setting his stomach churning and his knees wobbling for an entirely less pleasant reason. 

They both stare after Jared. What had been an inviting, intimate quiet is deafening, the only sound Jensen’s ragged breathing. Even the birds have gone silent, as if sensing their contribution is unwanted.

He should turn back to Jeff, start things back up. They can salvage their night, reclaim the heat and desperation of moments ago. That’s what they should do, and it’s not what Jensen wants to do. 

“You gonna go after him?” Jeff asks softly.

“No,” Jensen stutters. “It’ll be fine. He won’t tell anyone.” 

Even in the moonlight, Jeff’s frown is visible. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

The silence draws out as Jensen refuses to acknowledge Jeff’s point. 

Jeff huffs. “Look, Jensen, I fucked up tonight. I’m attracted to you, and you’re attracted to me, but I really didn’t want to get in the way of whatever you two have.”

“We’re just friends.” 

Jeff turns towards him. “Look, kiddo, it’s late and I’m tired and I thought I was gonna get laid and now I’m not. I’m not in the mood for obtuse. I have no idea what’s going on between you two, but it’s not ‘just friends’.”

He makes a sharp motion that cuts off Jensen’s muttered, “Could still get laid.”

“So you can either go sort this out now or you can sort it out tomorrow but I am too grumpy to be lied to. Now go and find your car and do whatever it is you need to do.”

With one last hard look straight from the John Winchester playbook, he spins on his heels and stalks off. The last thing Jensen hears as Jeff disappears behind a lorry is an irritated, “Just friends my ass.”

Jensen stands in the cold for a while longer, back still pressed against the trailer; but this time there are no sparks of pleasure offsetting the discomfort. His brain is rioting, Jeff’s words clattering against the image of Jared running away, neither making any sense.

He finally manages to peel himself away, trudging towards his car with no real sense of purpose. It’s far too late to go and talk to Jared, he reassures himself; they’ll be back on set together in a few hours anyway. 

Deep down, he knows he has no intention of talking to Jared in the morning. 

^^^^

_Jared’s wide-eyed with wonder at the Teen Choice Awards. He can’t believe this is his life; that he’s gone from being a mathlete to presenting an award at a national celebrity award ceremony. He keeps pinching himself; and when he’s not pinching himself he’s bouncing on his feet, unable to contain his enthusiasm._

_There’s so many people here. Jared thought he was worldly; it’s not like he comes from a small Texan town, San Antonio is a big city. But it’s nothing like here, where everyone is so polished they gleam, dazzling him._

_He feels so out of place. Everyone knows everyone else, they all greet each other like old friend, catching up on gossip and making plans. He sits quietly in his corner, observing; when he sees a tiny, blonde girl make her seventh set of brunch plans he does wonder whether she’s sincere, but he reassures himself that of course she is. She’s so nice to everyone, she even smiles at him._

_His stomach clenches so hard when his name is called that for a moment he struggles to stand. But he pushes past it; this exact moment might not be his dream, but he knows presenting himself well could make his career as an actor. And that’s what he’s been working towards since he was fourteen._

_The stage is a blur of lights and noise. To a certain extent, it’s everything he’s used to from plays at school; but the scale is much greater. The lights are hotter, the crowd is louder, the stakes are higher. He smiles, and laughs in all the right places, and says his lines at the right time. He gets a thumbs up from his co-host at the end of their spot, the relief he’d done ok almost causing his legs to give out._

_“Wanna come to a party later?” the tiny blonde girl asks him, once he’s safely backstage again._

_“I’m only seventeen,” he answers, flushing._

_She winks at him. “That’s perfect, sweetie. You’ll fit right in.” She’s looking at him in a way that scares him slightly, though he’s not sure why._

_“I can’t,” he says again. “I gotta wait for my mom.”_

_The minute the words are out of his mouth he realises how stupid he sounds. The girl obviously agrees with him and bursts out laughing._

_“Oh sweetie. Come find me again in a couple of years.”_

_She waves as she leaves, and always polite, Jared waves back. He’s pretty sure he never wants to see her again, even if he does find an agent this weekend._

_***_

_Jensen’s not even invited to the Teen Choice Awards (not that he’d ever want to go), so he’s not sure how he ends up at the after party. He stopped worrying about things like that long ago, though; there’s a free bar, a few people he knows, and a lot of pretty men he’d like to get to know better. That’s more than enough reason for him to be there._

_It’s a whirl. He used to hate parties like this, the insincerity, the boring conversation, the jockeying for position; but once he’d got his foot in the door, he’d realised it was all a cover for one thing: who wanted to fuck who. Once that revelation was in place, he’d seen the parties in a different light._

_He weaves his way through the crowd, more than a little drunk. Alcohol takes the edge of these things, he’s found; and gives him the confidence to make the first move on guys._

_Jensen always does that now. He picks a guy, buys him a drink, follows the guy back to his apartment, or room, or any available semi-private space; and he leaves as soon as they’re done. He never sees them again, and sometimes he doesn’t even share his name. He rarely gets turned down, and never more than once in an evening._

_His friends have suggested dates to him over the last couple of years, even tried to set him up a time or two, but Jensen’s always turned them down. This way is much easier._

_It doesn’t take him long to spot his target for the night. The man is shorter than him, light haired; he has razor-sharp cheekbones and the kind of slim, light body Jensen’s come to prefer. He’s as beautiful as everyone at this party, and his gaze lingers when Jensen catches his eye. Bingo._

_In less than an hour, Jensen’s got the guy pinned up against one of the ugliest wallpapers he’s ever seen. He tries not to get distracted by the swirling dots and flowers, keeping his attention on what’s-his-name as they grind together. Finally it’s too much; Jensen drags them across the apartment until he finds a couch, and they’re soon naked, Jensen’s knees sticking uncomfortably to the leather. It’s hot and sweaty and good, not incandescent but more than enough to get him off._

_He does get off, twice; once in the guys ass and a second time in his mouth. He’s a gentleman, so he makes sure the guy gets his too; last thing he wants is word getting around he’s selfish in bed. It might make his supply of easy lays dry up._

_He’s out of the door by 3am, a cab waiting outside to take him back to his own shower. The guy is fast asleep, with no idea Jensen’s leaving; before he’d fallen asleep he’d mumbled something about breakfast together. Jensen still doesn’t even know his name._


	8. Chapter 8

“Fuck off and leave me alone.”

The shove sends Jensen reeling so hard he barely keeps his footing.

“What the fuck?” He steps forwards, hackles raised and ready to defend himself. Tension crackles between them, radiating out to the circle of crewmembers. It’s late and everyone’s a bit on edge, snapping at each other or seeking their own space, but Jensen had never expected this. 

“Just fuck off, Jensen. I don’t need your help and I don’t need you near me. Just leave me the fuck alone.” Jared’s voice wobbles in the middle of his fierce declaration, but strengthens again to such an extent Jensen braces himself for a blow that never comes. Instead, Jared spins on his heel and storms away, leaving a stunned crew in his wake. 

“I hate it when they fight,” Brad murmurs sadly.

***

Their crew universally adore Jared. Jensen is the first to admit it’s been a bit galling; he’s always been the most popular one on set, the lone actor invited to crew drinks. He’d even joked about it with Jared, before; how Jared had usurped his position and how the crew viewed him as their collective baby brother. 

It’s backfiring on him now. There’s an icy silence around him; several people casting pointed looks between Jensen and the door Jared had exited from. When it becomes clear after a few awkward, aching moments that Jared isn’t coming back, and Jensen has no intention of going after him, Kim lets out a loud, passive-aggressive sigh.

“Let’s take a break.”

Jensen retreats to a corner. He refuses to go any further because if he does, he knows the crew will see it for what it is: an attempt to flee, and by proxy, an admission of guilt. Jensen’s not sure what he’s got to feel guilty for, or why he feels as guilty as he does; but he’s pretty sure there are some people among their crew who would be more than happy to give their opinions on both. 

He sits quietly for fifteen minutes or so, pretending to flick through his script. Even so, he can still sense the furious looks being cast his way, each sending a trickle of ice down his spine. 

Twenty minutes pass, and there’s still no sign of Jared. Jensen’s watching the door as intently as anyone, despite the script shielding his face, but it never does more than rock in the winter wind. He’s so intently focused he doesn’t notice someone approaching from the other direction until a shadow falls across him. 

One look up at Kim’s face is enough to make Jensen rapidly drop his eyes again.

“Why are you still sitting here?” Kim asks.

Jensen’s feels like he’s in the middle of a conversation he doesn’t remember having. “What?”

Kim doesn’t repeat himself. He knows Jensen heard. 

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two, or what it had to do with Jeff, and frankly I don’t want to know. I find it hard enough to get enough sleep as it is. But what I do know is what happens when a set goes wrong, and you fucking know that too.”

There’s a beat of silence. Kim’s being even less quiet than he is tactful, and half the set is listening in. Jensen can feel the tips of his ears burning. 

“So I’m not sure why you’re still sitting here. But what I do know is you’re going to march your ass out of here right now, and you’re not going to come back until you’ve fixed whatever the fuck has gone so wrong. This is not going to be a two lead show where the two leads fight every day. Am I understood?”

Jensen has to quash the immediate urge to ‘yessir’, a move he knows will only irritate Kim more. Not to mention how embarrassed he is to be so intimidated by someone half his size. 

“Yes,” he murmurs. 

“So what are you waiting for?”

Jensen scrambles to his feet. There’s a moment where he locks eyes with Kim, before the older man moves out of his way. Jensen’s reminded how much of Kim’s success is due to his iron will. 

Jensen feels oddly like he’s doing the walk of shame; ironic given he’s never felt the least bit ashamed of walking home from any of his many hook ups. The crew collectively pause as he walks out, at least half of them not bothering to hide the way their heads swivel in his direction. 

“No fucking pressure,” he mutters to himself. 

As he leaves, he reflects that he prefers the Kripke version of the set pep talk. 

*** 

He takes his time walking across set. It reminds him of that night a couple of weeks ago, the moonlight diluted tonight by the lights of a production in full swing. He tries not to think about that night; a hot rush of dirty guilt makes his stomach churn everytime he does. He knows he should’ve talked to Jared, but he … couldn’t. 

Jared was always the kid who wanted to talk about his feelings, to understand where someone else was coming from, prodding and poking until he got to an answer he considered deep enough. Jensen might not have spent much quality time around him as an adult, but he can tell that hasn’t changed. Jared would’ve turned the thing with Jeff, and more importantly why it didn’t happen, around and around and around until he got to the truth, and Jensen couldn’t cope with that level of introspection. 

No matter how he dawdles, he has to reach Jared’s trailer eventually. It’s only the thought of Kim’s wrath that gives him the impetus he needs to knock on the door.

There’s no answer, not even after 3 knocks. Jensen knows Jared is probably ignoring him and he’d love nothing more than to leave it at that; but he strongly suspects Kim will not accept that as an answer. 

“Jared?” he calls. “I’m coming in.” 

He half expects to find Jared crying when he enters. The kid had always been prone to easy tears, no matter what Jeff tried to do to toughen him up; more often than not they were gone and his sunshine smile back in place with some reassurance and a hug. Jensen can only hope this is as easily fixable.

Jared’s not crying, though; he’s sitting on the sofa, eyes fixed on the wall. He’s unnaturally still; there’s no fidgeting with his hair, or ripping up paper, or a spinning a pencil, or any of the other innumerable things Jared usually has twirling between his fingers at any given time. 

“Jared?” Jensen tries again, but there’s no reaction. “Jay, Kim sent me-”

“One,” Jared cuts him off, voice harder than Jensen has ever heard it. “Don’t call me that. Two, if you’ve only come because Kim sent you then fuck off again.”

Jensen winces, but he has to admit he deserves that.

“Jared, please come back to set.” Jensen pauses, buried under the weight of all the things he could say. 

Jared doesn’t respond. 

“I know you’re angry at me, and I’m sorry for whatever I did that’s made you so angry. But it’s late, and we’re holding everyone up, and I don’t wanna keep the crew waiting any longer. Can you come back?”

“Fucking hell.” Jared lets out a short, bitter laugh. “You’re so unbelievable.”

“Come back, Jared, please?” Jensen’s perilously close to begging. The sight of Jared in so much distress is making his insides somersault about, and he doesn’t want to think about why, or worse, all the many reasons Jared might have for being so angry with him.

“Fuck you.” Jared says succinctly. “I’ll come back for the crew. Not for you.”

Jensen blinks back burning, unexpected tears. “That’s fine,” he chokes out. 

Jared’s up and pushing past him before he’s got himself under control.

“You’re such a fucking coward, Jensen.”

Jensen watches Jared storm away from him for the second time that evening, a couple of stray tears finally falling.

***

Jared throws himself back into Sam’s head. Luckily, it’s a particularly angsty scene, rather than the comedy they were doing the week before. His anger meshes with Sam’s, resulting in a performance he knows is one of his best. 

It’s almost enough to make him wish he could feel this way every episode. Almost. 

Fury is still zinging through him when he leaves, the two voices inside him feeding from each other. He doesn’t stop to say goodnight to anyone, and his colleagues seem more than willing to accept that, stepping out of his way with alacrity as he speeds towards his car. 

Jensen’s words keep running through his head - both his initial patronising advice on Jared’s acting and the way he’d admitted he’d only come to find Jared because Kim had sent him. Even through his anger, Jared feels sorry for everyone else; they must just see a spoilt, petty actor snapping and halting production for a tiny insult. 

But Jared’s anger has been growing for the last couple of weeks, ever since Jeff left and he’d realised Jensen wasn’t going to talk to him. He can only assume Jensen and Jeff did hook up - every time he thinks it, his vision tinges red - but what’s worse is Jensen hadn’t even done him the courtesy of explaining. Sleeping with their co-stars was a dangerous game and Jensen at least owed him that. So when Jensen had dared, after weeks of distance, to criticise Jared’s scene under the guise of offering advice, Jared had snapped. 

Jared’s still seething when he reaches his hotel room, and it’s all he can do to calm himself down enough to feed his dogs. They can sense something is wrong, though; as soon as they’ve gobbled down their food they’re on him, Sadie on his lap and Harley with his face under Jared’s neck. Jared buries his face in Sadie’s fur, breathing in deep so her familiar doggy scent blankets out everything else. 

Eventually he surfaces. It’s really not that late; despite Jensen’s emotional blackmail, this is earlier than he’s been home in a couple of weeks. Too keyed up to sleep, he flicks on the tv, settling down to watch a football game, so distracted he’s barely aware of who’s playing. 

He’s already dreading having to go back to work tomorrow. 

***

“Jensen.” Kim’s voice rings out across the clatter of the crew packing up. Jensen’s heart sinks; he’d been hoping to sneak out. 

He turns slowly. Kim is bearing down on him, looking exactly like that: an enraged mama bear angry about a threat to its cub. Jensen shivers. 

“Fix this.” 

Jensen nods, but Kim hasn’t finished. 

“Or don’t come back tomorrow.”

Jensen’s mostly sure it’s an empty threat; Kim can’t fire him because he’s protective of Jared. Surely. 

The angry stares the rest of the crew cast his way as he slinks towards his car say otherwise.

***

Jensen paces back and forth outside Jared’s hotel. It feels like he’s been here for hours; if the hotel staff haven’t already called the cops on him, they surely soon will. He has to go inside and face this. Face Jared.

He thinks of how upset Jared was earlier.

He takes a step forwards. 

He thinks of Jared running from him and Jeff, distress evident in the set of his shoulders and the speed of his legs. 

He takes a step backwards.

He thinks of Jared’s body under his hands, the heat of their chest pressing together and their noses brushing as something undefinable hovered between them. 

His palms tingle as he takes a step forward. 

He thinks of Austin, walking out of their apartment, and he takes a step back, stomach churning. 

For the first time in years, he thinks of that night in San Antonio, Jared crying in the back of his truck as Jensen promised to stay in touch. 

He almost runs away.

He thinks of Jared as a teenager, grin stretched wide across his face as he sang along with Eddie Vedder, flicking his gaze between the stage and Jensen with equal wonder. 

Fists clenched, he takes one hesitant step forward after another, each coming easier. He manages to reach a normal speed when he enters the lobby, aware of the receptionist watching him.

The ding of the elevator causes him to break out into a cold sweat, but he makes it inside and his stomach bottoms out as he zooms up to Jared’s floor. 

***

The dogs, already on edge because of Jared’s fragile mental state, go insane when someone knocks on the door. Jared forces himself to move towards the door, legs heavy with weariness and head swimming with sleep. 

When the door swings open to reveal Jensen standing outside, his doziness is replaced by a clarity so sharp it’s painful.

Despite their telepathic awareness of Jared’s mood, the dogs aren’t clever enough to link that to Jensen. They’re delighted at the unexpected appearance of their friend, jumping all over him with enthusiastic licks in a display that would have both men howling with laughter on a normal day. 

Jensen still takes the time to pet them both, and Jared’s sure he’s thankful for the distraction. But the dogs are finally satisfied, Harley coming back to press himself against Jared’s legs while Sadie settles comfortably on Jensen’s feet. Jensen’s clutching the doorframe as if it’s a lifeline, eyes wary and locked on Jared. 

“Can I come in?” he asks.

Jared crosses his arms. 

“Ok.” Jensen’s voice wavers. “I… erm… I came to try and…” Jensen hesitates. “To try and sort this, whatever this is.” 

From the day Jensen arrived in Jared’s San Antonio home, following his new friend Jeff in his first week at a new school, Jared’s never seen Jensen as anything other than supremely confident. He’d dealt with moving to a new high school with panache, and flew through the tribulations of adolescence that would later leave Jared reeling. But this is not that Jensen.

“Why?” Jared forces himself to be cold. He’s got to find a way to protect himself. Jensen’s been trampling over his heart since he was twelve, and it has to stop.

“We’ve got to find a way to work together,” Jensen says. 

Jared’s incensed this is all for the show. Kim probably sent Jensen this time too. He’s about to kick Jensen out when Jensen speaks again.

“And…” There’s a pause. Jensen’s eyes drop, his ear tinge red, and Jared thinks that’s it; he’s not going to say anything else. And then those impossible eyelashes flick up, Jensen’s eyes brimming with vulnerability. “And I don’t like this. I don’t like it when you’re upset. I want you to be happy.”

Jared snorts, but he can’t deny the way his heart leaps. 

“You’ve got a shitty way of showing it.”

“I know. But. I do.” Jensen’s breathing is choppy. “Can I come in?” he asks again.

This time, Jared steps back so Jensen can step inside.

***

Jensen’s been sat in the uncomfortable armchair for more than five minutes now, and he’s yet to say a word. Jared has no intention of breaking the silence. 

“Why are you so angry with me, Jay-Jared?” Jensen asks eventually, stumbling over the nickname.

Jared shakes his head. “I literally don’t know where to start.” 

“I’m sorry if I upset you today,” Jensen tries. “I didn’t realise I was being annoying, giving that advice. We’ve done it before, I thought I was being helpful.”

Jared doesn’t respond. If Jensen truly thinks today was the underlying problem, rather than a symptom, there’s no hope for them.

The silence stretches on, broken only by a slight whimper as Sadie chases a squirrel in her dream. 

“And. I’m sorry about - what you saw between Jeff and I.” 

“Sorry for what?” 

Jensen shoots him a pained look, as if he can’t believe Jared is going to make him spell it out. 

“I’m sorry you saw. And I’m sorry I didn’t come and talk to you about it.”

It’s salt in the wound, but Jared can’t help himself. “Did you sleep with him?” 

Jensen rubs his hand across his face. “No.”

Conga music plays in Jared’s head and it’s all he can do to stop himself standing up to dance. 

“Why do you even care?” Jensen asks, shaking his head.

The music stops abruptly, and Jared’s thankful the relatively darkness is hiding his blush. “Bad idea to sleep with co-stars,” he murmurs. As if he wouldn’t drop to his knees if Jensen so much as raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, well.” Jensen rubs the back of his neck. “That’s usually my motto too.” 

Then _why_ , Jared wants to shout; why flirt with him, why kiss him? But he manages to keep his mouth shut; this isn’t about his jealousy. It’s about so many things - the potential for it to fuck up the show, and all the old issues between Jared and Jensen - the jealousy should be inconsequential. Should being the operative word. 

Jensen obviously takes his silence for an indication more apologising is required. 

“And. I know things are… weird… between us. I know it’s hard, that…” he tails off. 

“That you left and you promised you’d come back, that we’d still be friends? And you disappeared?” The words spill out, eight years of pain and bitterness infusing every word. Jared has more, so much more, he could say, but he manages to cut himself off. That’s more than enough vulnerability to lay out on the table for one evening. 

Jensen looks distraught. “Yeah,” he whispers. 

“Well?” 

“I’m sorry, Jay. Really. Life was … mental, then. It was exhausting and I barely had enough money to live, let alone come home.” 

Jared lets the nickname slide, this time. He’s far more interested in hearing what Jensen has to say. 

“I worked shit hours and we were never on the same timezone and…” He pauses for a moment. “You know what, I was a selfish little shit, all wrapped up in myself. I’m sorry, Jay.” His gaze is intent on Jared, almost desperate.

Something loosens in Jared’s heart, something that’s been locked up tight for eight years. 

“It’s not ok,” he hears himself say, his voice far steadier than it feels. Jensen’s face crumples, eyes dropping as he slumps in the chair. “But it’s a start.” 

Jensen’s mouth turns up at the corner, slightly, and Jared struggles to stop himself getting lost in those ridiculous green eyes. 

“Ok.” Jensen’s voice is soft. “I get that. But can we try to go back to how we were tomorrow? Trying to make work fun?” 

“Yeah, that would be good.” Jared’s equally quiet, careful of this new peace that’s crept across them. 

“Thank god,” Jensen says fervently. “Maybe Kim won’t kill me after all.”

^^^^

_The day dawns bright and sticky, sun already gleaming from the white porch of the house opposite Jensen’s window. Jensen is, unusually, awake at once; his brain ready and raring to go for this day he’s been anticipating for months. Its perfect driving weather; his smile stretches across his face as he tumbles out of bed, ready to jump in the shower._

_He slows down when he’s dressing, reminding himself it’s a good eight hours before they even have to think about leaving. He pulls on the right clothes anyway, rifling through his drawers until he finds the right band t-shirt and his baggiest, most ripped jeans._

_His mother is shocked to see him bounce into the kitchen so early, demanding breakfast._

_“Today’s the big day?” she asks smiling, as if Jensen has talked about anything else for weeks._

_“Yup!” Jensen chirps. He’s so cheerful he’d be annoying himself on any other day._

_His mother fixes him with a stern glare. “Well, remember all the things you promised Sherri. Remember to be safe, and to be….”_

_Jensen’s mother apparently can’t pretend anymore, bursting out into laughter at Jensen’s scowl._

_“Have fun, sweetie,” she says, kissing the top of his head; Jensen’s so happy he doesn’t even pretend to pull away._

_***_

_Jared’s in his lounge by 11am, vibrating with excitement._

_“Mom said I couldn’t come around any earlier she said I had to wait until now but I’ve been up since six can you tell me where we’re going yet?”_

_Jensen’s laughing by the time Jared runs out of breath. It’s so, so tempting to give in to the months of begging and tell Jared. It is finally the day, after all. But he looks away from Jared’s huge, puppy eyes and steels his resolve. Only a few more hours, and waiting will make it so much better._

_“Nope, sorry. Gotta wait.” He sticks his tongue out and Jared groans._

_“So mean, Jen,” he complains._

_“You love it.”_

_“Do not.”_

_It’s inevitable their excess energy results in breaking Jensen’s mother’s lamp as they wrestle across the floor, Jensen thinks; but it doesn’t mean his mother is happy about it._

_***_

_Jared can barely contain himself. He’s so excited. Jensen is taking him for a birthday surprise this afternoon, something he’s been planning for months, and Jared might die from the anticipation before he gets to experience it._

_The afternoon drags, but Jared’s energy doesn’t. He’s so hyped up he can barely sit still, running from room to room talking to everyone he can about the surprise, trying to find out clues. No one caves, though; not Jensen or his mother, or Mrs Ackles, who is normally a sucker for his requests. He does end up with a cake, though._

_“Why don’t you two go into town and buy a few groceries?” Mrs Ackles eventually suggests, looking a bit frazzled. She’s used to Jared jumping around, but Jensen is more excited than Jared’s ever seen, and she’s probably finding that a bit unusual. “Get some ice creams on the way back? And then it’ll be time to go.”_

_Jensen jumps at the opportunity and soon they’re bouncing down the road, pushing and shoving at each other and racing each block. It does help a little, or rather the ice cream does. They’re both sticky by the time they get back, but that’s just summertime._

_As soon as it hits 5pm, Jensen’s up._

_“In the car, squirt,” he says. Jared’s legs almost give out, he’s so excited; but at the same time, he’s reluctant to go. He’s been looking forward to this for so long it’s going to leave a big hole in his life once it’s over. Jensen’s at the door, though, beckoning him on, and Jared couldn’t say no if he tried._

_His legs are adhered to the fake leather seats by the time Jensen drives them across the city limits. They’re soon on the freeway, and Jared is more puzzled than ever. It had never occurred to him that they’d be leaving the city for his surprise._

_“Where are we going?” he asks, for the millionth time._

_Jensen’s grin is blinding. “Can’t you read road signs, jerk?”_

_Austin, Dallas, Fort Worth, Oklahoma City, the signs spell out. There’s no way they’re going to any of those places; Dallas and Fort Worth are hours away; Oklahoma is in a different state. And there’s no way Jensen’s taking him somewhere as cool as Austin. It must be something on the way, Jared figures._

_Jensen’s a good driver, fast but not so much Jared worries about cops. They cruise along, laughing and eating the snacks Jensen had hidden in the glove compartment. He’s trying not to think about their destination, wanting to enjoy this precious time with Jensen while its only them, no interruptions. Normally, he has to share Jensen: with their moms, with Jeff, with Meggie and Mack, who both idolise him. No matter what Jared does, where he takes them, they’re always interrupted. But out here, in Jensen’s battered truck, it’s only the two of them._

_The sun is low in the sky when Jensen swings them off the highway without warning. Jared has no time to read the sign, and he’s still as clueless as ever about where they’re going. There’s houses set back from the road on either side, restaurants as well as the usual roadside diners, and even the odd bar. The houses get closer and closer together, as they pull into a town; and despite everything, common sense tells Jared this must be Austin._

_He’s breathless with excitement. He’s wanted to come here for years; Austin, the home of live music, has been calling him since Jensen and Jeff first started listening to rock music. He presses his nose to the window, eager to soak in every moment. Jensen snorts behind him._

_“It’s like being on a trip with a puppy,” he says. Jared knows he should be offended, but he can’t bring himself to care._

_“Where are we going?” he asks again._

_“Haven’t you worked out where we are yet?” Jensen asks._

_“Yeah, we’re in Austin, but where in Austin are we going?”_

_Even behind the wheel, Jensen pretends to faint._

_“Lord, will the questions never end?”_

_“Nope!”_

_***_

_They’re not even there yet, and this is already his best idea ever. Jared hasn’t stopped talking since they left San Antonio, he hasn’t stopped moving around, and he hasn’t stopped smiling. All before he even knows where he’s going._

_Jensen has to concentrate once they’re in Austin. It’s his first time here too; he doesn’t want them to get lost. A friend of Jensen’s dad had recommended a food truck park by Zilker Park; near enough to their eventual destination it won’t take long to get there after they’ve eaten, but far enough to be away from the crowds._

_Jared’s wide-eyed as they pull up. San Antonio has its own food trucks, but they’re few and far between and offer nothing like the variety found here. Not to mention the beautiful view._

_“You’ve brought me for food truck food!” Jared says, and Jensen can hardly contain his laughter. Jared thinks this is the surprise, rather than the preparation; and he’s not going to ruin it now._

_Jared’s had a thing about Austin for years. He follows ACL religiously every year, learning which bands are playing and seeking out radio broadcasts. He knows all about Austin’s history, and has already started thinking about which course he might want to study at the university. So Jensen would already be a super cool best friend if this were the culmination of their evening._

_“What do you want?” he asks, waiting for the inevitable. “My treat.”_

_“Do you even gotta ask?” Jared responds, and Jensen doesn’t. They make a beeline for the tex-mex truck, ignoring the Italian, Korean and pizza trucks around them._

_Jared’s beaming from ear to ear while he polishes off his giant burrito, still managing to talk non-stop around it. He’s like a livewire, Jensen thinks; his joy is so contagious even people at the surrounding tables are looking on in envy, wanting to be bathed in his light like Jensen is._

_When Jared’s smeared sticky with barbeque sauce, a ridiculous blob on the end of his nose but all the burrito safely in his stomach, Jensen checks his watch._

_“We gotta go home?” Jared looks sad, but not angry, already thrilled with his day out._

_“You wanna go home now?” Jensen asks, mock surprised. “You don’t want your surprise?”_

_Jared’s rockets to his feet so fast he knocks the bench over. “This wasn’t it?”_

_“What, you think I’d drive you all the way to Austin for a burrito?” Jensen asks. He’s giddy with happiness._

_Jared’s even worse, so thrilled he can’t speak. He stays on his feet, gesturing for Jensen to hurry up._

_“Ok, ok,” Jensen says, deliberately taking his time. “I thought you wanted to go home.”_

_Jared looks so offended Jensen has to bend over with laughter._

_“Ok, come on. Don’t wanna be late.”_

_They bundle themselves back in the car and head south again. A few more minutes, and Jared will know. Jensen can’t wait._

_***_

_If Jared thought he was excited before, it doesn’t even compare to what he feels now. He’d thought today was already perfect: a road trip with Jensen, to a city he’s wanted to visit for years, and really great texmex. He can’t even imagine what more he could want._

_He’s confused when they pull into a long queue of cars. Jensen rolls his eyes and thumps his head back against the seat. “This is gonna take ages,” he says, and he’s right. It’s a good ten minutes before Jared even gets a hint of their destination. Its ok, though; the people in the cars around them have good taste in music, blaring out Pearl Jam, Soundgarden and Nirvana. Eddie Vedder’s softer voice clashes with the rough growl of Kurt Cobain, Mike McCready’s guitar competing with Dave Grohl’s drums, and if Jared were to choose to be stuck in traffic, it would be in this specific jam._

_Jensen’s watching him intently, and it makes Jared uncomfortable to be the source of such focus. It sends shivers tingling down his spine, makes his cheeks heat up in a way he hopes isn’t too obvious. Jensen looks so good today, skin poking through the rips in his jeans and his t-shirt tight across his chest, that Jared’s been sneaking looks all day. He’s even had to glare at a couple of people who thought they could ogle Jensen._

_“Almost there,” Jensen says, eyes fixed on Jared. He presses his face to the window, trying to cool his blush and spot their destination at the same time._

_The banner stretches across in front of them as they round the corner, the huge letters spelling out one of Jared’s dreams. “Pearl Jam, Austin 1998” flickers in the breeze, drawn tight across the front of the stadium, and suddenly it all clicks into place._

_He’s stunned into absolute silence, so many words warring inside him none of them can come out. Its a few minutes before he realises Jensen is peering at him anxiously, and the thought that Jensen has done this for him is enough to kick his brain back into gear._

_“Oh my god,” he shrieks, throwing himself across the car at his friend. The seatbelt catches him hard enough across his chest to leave a bruise, but Jared makes it to Jensen anyway, throwing his arms across Jensen any way he can. It’s lucky they’re stationary, because Jensen’s forced to let go of the wheel to catch Jared’s flailing arms, which are perilously close to his face._

_“You pleased?” Jensen asks softly, once Jared’s stopped bouncing about in his hold._

_“Yes,” Jared says. “I’m the most pleased I’ve ever been in my life.”_

_He’s still trapped in by his seatbelt and the console is digging into his thigh, but he manages to get both arms around Jensen’s neck, hugging tight._

_“Thank you Jen,” he says. I love you, he doesn’t say._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Jensen is worried walking onto set the next day. Achingly nervous about how Jared is going to react, whether he’s changed his mind overnight; but also anxious about whether anyone has swapped his sugar for salt, or locked him out of his trailer, or _cut his brakes,_ in an attempt to defend Jared.

But everything is ok on both fronts. A few people eye him suspiciously, and Jared gets a lot of extra hugs (even by his huggy standards) but no one makes an outright move of hostility towards Jensen. By lunchtime, he breathes a sigh of relief.

As for Jared, he’s taken their decision to heart. They’re not back to where they were before the night of the fight; and they’re nowhere near where they were as teenagers, but the painful tension of the last two weeks has disappeared. There’s laughter in their scenes again, and rampant sillness, and after the first three bouts of hysterical laughter, the crew laugh at Jensen’s jokes too, rather than leaving them hanging in painful silence. 

When Jensen goes back to his trailer on the second day to find a bag of gummy bears taped to his door, he knows things are going to be fine. 

***

He’s forced to revise that prediction a few days later. He might be working better, getting along better with Jared; but that was because he was barely seeing anything of Jared. Because Jared was too busy flirting with _that girl_. 

Jensen usually makes an effort with guest stars who are going to be in scenes with him. He firmly believes in being polite and friendly; and even more firmly in the fact that being unpleasant to people in the relatively small world of Hollywood tv acting was bound to come back and bite him in the ass. But he can’t bring himself to to be nice to her. 

He looks over to where she’s standing with Jared. She smacks Jared on the arm, laughing; and lingers, stroking Jared’s arm lightly. Jensen frowns at the obviousness of it, and worries it might be unwanted. Jared might be feeling pressured, and as his almost-big-brother, it’s Jensen’s right to be concerned. 

Jared himself doesn’t seem too bothered. He smiles down at her, dimples popping out, and says something that has her going off into peals of laughter. 

It looks forced, in Jensen’s opinion. She’s trying too hard, making her intentions all too clear. It’s going to make Jared feel cornered. 

They whisper and laugh until the director calls for places. Jensen stays in his corner, watching as intently as he can while trying not to look like he’s watching. If Jared feels uncomfortable, if Jared needs support, he’s determined to be there for his friend. 

***

“Do you want to come for a drink?” The girl’s voice is annoying; high and vapid. She’s smiling at him dubiously, waiting for an answer. “Jared told me to ask you. He’s rushed off to get changed but then we’re heading out.”

The cheek of her, butting her way into his newly recovered friendship with Jared.. 

“No thanks. I’m busy.” He has no desire to go out and play third wheel, or wingman, or whatever Jared wants. 

“Oh.” She looks surprised. “Jared was sure you were free.”

“I’m not.”

They stand awkwardly for a moment, life rushing past them as they engage in a battle of wills the girl doesn’t even know is happening. Jensen will be damned if he loses, though. 

“Ok,” she says eventually. “I’ll … go find Jared.”

She spins on a high heel and walks away, hips swaying. Jensen might be gay but he’s not blind; she’s beautiful, and Jared has no reason to turn her down. 

Jared won’t sleep with a guest star, he reassures himself. Not after what had almost happened between Jensen and Jeff and how upset he’d been. He ignores the little voice that points out the girl is in one episode, it’s a different situation. Jared won’t. 

***

They’re closer than ever the next day, giggling and flirting and holding up scenes. Jensen tries not to be annoyed, but really, it’s unprofessional. 

He’s half expecting them to disappear at lunchtime, to see Jared’s trailer rocking, so he jumps when Jared speaks from behind him.

“Wanna play Madden?”

Jensen’s torn between yelling his approval and demanding to know why Jared doesn’t want to spend the time with his new girlfriend.

“Yeah.” He manages to choke the word out, and it obviously sounds like his internal conflict is coming out through his mouth given the way Jared looks at him. Jared’s face quickly transforms into a smile, though. 

“Ok!” he says cheerfully, and runs to his trailer. Jensen’s running after him as soon as his brain kicks into gear. Harley nearly knocks Jared down the steps when he pulls the door open, but they’re soon inside, too close on the small couch, elbows knocking as Jared’s thigh rests hot against Jensen’s. 

Jensen’s losing badly, distracted by things he doesn’t even want to think about. After Jared kicks his ass for the third time, crowing with satisfaction, he turns to Jensen.

“What the hell is up with you today?”

Victory is warring with worry on his face, and Jensen has the distinct impression that his bad mood is harshing Jared’s joy at winning.

“Nothing,” he answers. “Lets go again. I’ll kick your ass this time.”

Jared rolls his eyes, but presses start on the controller. 

He should be intent on the game, intent on recovering his character’s lost honour, but Jensen can only think about one thing.

“How was your date last night?” he asks, ashamed he still doesn’t know the girl’s name. 

“My date?” 

Jared’s still focused on the game, barely paying attention to Jensen’s question. 

“Yeah, you went on a date after work.”

“What, no I didn’t?”

There’s a pause, and then Jared pauses the game.

“Do you mean going out for a drink with Taylor?” 

Taylor. Finally, Jensen had a name. “Yeah.”

“That was a drink, Jensen. We invited you. There were other people there. Brad was there. Robin was there.”

Jensen’s mind whirls. He’d spent the evening at home, miserable because Jared was out on a date instead of… he didn’t know how to end that sentence, but he’d been grumpy all evening. 

“Jensen.” Jared’s speaking slowly now, the way he does when Sadie sees the cat she’s afraid of. “Jen. You do know I’m gay, right?”

Jensen did not know that. “You’re gay?” he repeats stupidly. He turns away, trying to process this new information.

“Yeah.” Jared’s face goes blank. “Is that an issue?” 

“Fuck, no Jared.” Jensen’s scrambling, realising the implications of his response. 

Jared looks hurt. “I didn’t think-”

“It’s not.” Jensen says firmly. 

Jared still looks unsure, refusing to look Jensen in the eye, and that’s unacceptable. It twists Jensen up inside, a frantic feeling of unease. 

“Look, it’s definitely, definitely not. I don’t care who you sleep with,” Jensen almost chokes on the hypocrisy of that, “whether its men or women. I promise.”

The lack of response spurs Jensen onwards. “It’d be pretty shitty of me, considering I’m gay too,” he says. He can feel the flush rising in his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck. It’s been years since he had to say it out loud; usually a nod and a wink is enough to get his point across. 

Jared’s eyes flew up to his face. “You’re gay?” Jared asks. 

“Yup.” 

“I never knew. I thought maybe - after Jeff - but I thought maybe that was just a one off. You always dated girls, before.” 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly open about it back home, Jay. And it’s not something you exactly shout about in the industry, either. “

Jared nods in apparent agreement, although his eyes are wide, and his hands tremble on the controller. “I get that. But…” his voice is slow. “I wish I’d known.”

The “I wish you’d told me” goes unspoken. Guilt slams Jensen again, all related to the way he feels about leaving Texas and leaving Jared. 

“Sorry, kiddo. I didn’t tell anyone till I got to LA.”

“Jeff doesn’t know?” For a moment, Jensen thinks Jared is talking about their co-star, before he makes the connection to Jared’s older brother. 

“God no. You think I told Jeff something I didn’t tell you?”

Jared blushes and doesn’t answer, but the small, pleased smile on his face suggests Jensen is another step closer to healing the rift between them. 

^^^^

_Jensen and Jeff argue about it, at one point, why Jensen is so close to Jeff’s little brother._

_“I don’t get it. Why do you wanna spend so much time with him?” Jeff’s shoulders are tense, and he’s chopping lettuce with more force than necessary._

_“What do you mean, why? Why do I wanna spend time with anyone?”_

_“Yeah, but you spend more time with him than me. Or any of us. I just don’t get it.”_

_“You spend time with him,” Jensen states flatly, suspecting this is down to Jeff thinking his little brother isn’t cool, or fun._

_“Of course I do, he’s my brother. But I’d rather be spending time with my friends.”_

_There’s silence as Jensen processes this, still not sure why they’re even arguing. The oven hums in the background, Jared’s mother’s famous chicken bake bubbling away towards perfection._

_Jeff comes to the end of the lettuce, and pauses. “And besides, it’s a bit creepy. You’re so much older.” The pause this time is loaded._

_Jensen’s stunned, not sure he heard right._

_“What are you implying,” he say quietly, moving away from the table towards Jeff._

_“Nothing.” Another pause. “It’s weird. Everybody thinks so.” Jeff’s tone is defensive, now, as he senses he’s getting close to a line he doesn’t want to cross. He shuffles over to the cupboard, eyes down._

_“No way. You don’t just get to put that out there and not explain.” Jensen can feel himself losing his temper - what Jeff’s suggesting is sinking in. His friend doesn’t answer, so Jensen strides across the kitchen until he’s right in Jeff’s personal space, and shoves his friend until they’re face to face._

_“Are you implying I’m molesting your little brother?” his voice rises. “That there’s something, something dirty about our friendship?” his hands find Jeff’s arms, without his permission, and his fingers dig in hard enough to bruise._

_The sound of Meg’s teenybopper music, drifting through the den, provides a surreal soundtrack to one of the most heated moments of Jensen’s life so far, and he knows he’ll forever associate the Macarena with this moment. The silence between the two boys stretches out for longer than Jensen thought one shitty song could continue, but finally, Jeff meets his eyes._

_“No, not really.” Tension seeps from Jeff’s body until he falls back against the counter, a puppet with its strings cut._

_“Well what then?” Jensen’s still amped up, furious Jeff could even consider such a thing._

_Jeff looks away again. “It’s just, you don’t spend time with us any more. Only with Jared.”_

_Jensen blinks, and takes a step back, not sure how to process this new information. Jeff’s jealous, that was what this was all about. “You want me to spend more time with you? Leave Jay out? Heads up, don’t accuse me of being a pervert.” He’s still aggressive, because above and beyond the horror of what Jeff’s accusing him of, he can’t fathom leaving Jay behind._

_“You want me to make your little brother miserable because you’re jealous?” he continues._

_“No!” Jeff counters immediately._

_“What, then?” Jensen’s frustration is getting the better of him, and he’s almost shouting. The tension builds again rapidly, because Jeff doesn’t know how to answer and Jensen’s clenching his fists so hard he worries his nails have drawn blood._

_The cooker dings._

_The chicken bake is ready, magnificent in its perfection, and Sherri comes bustling in to finish up dinner. She looks sharply at the two boys, standing far closer than normal, but then Meggy scampers into the kitchen as well, hungry and over-excited and ready to show off her new Macarena skills._

_“Jen, what time is JT due home from soccer?” Sherri asks. Jeff huffs loudly at this evidence of how close his brother and his friend are, slams his fist against the counter and storms out of the kitchen. Sherri looks at Jensen and rolls her eyes. “JT? When?” she prompts._

_“Uh, anytime now,” Jensen manages to force out, still so enraged he can barely speak._

_Sherri starts to lay the table. “I’m sure he’ll be starving. Run along and wash up, so we can eat as soon as he’s in.”_

_Jensen goes into the main house, the warm, inviting space he’s come to think of as his second home over the last year or so, still so blindsided by his argument with Jeff he almost misses the bathroom._

_He has the distinct feeling a line was crossed, that he picked a side without even realising, and he’s fine with that._

^^^^

Jensen walks towards his car at the end of the day, feeling light as air. He spots the girl - Taylor - getting into her own SUV, dragging a bag behind her. He’d forgotten it was her last day. 

Feeling a rush of happiness, he walks across. “Bye, Taylor,” he says. “You’ve been great.” He means it, too. She’d played well against Sam.

“Er, bye, Jensen,” she replies, looking a little confused. He gives her a jaunty wave as she drives off, before floating over to his own car. 


	10. Chapter 10

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that!” Jensen shrieks as he races towards Jared, snow splashing up behind him. He throws the snowball in his hand, but it goes wild, flying past Jared’s shoulder. Jared can’t help but laugh, stumbling as he looks back.

“You’ll never catch me,” he yells. He’s got a solid headstart on Jensen, has done ever since he’d snuck up and pushed the snowball down Jensen’s neck. Jensen’s outraged screaming had cost him valuable time. 

Jared’s forgotten, though, how ridiculously fast Jensen is. Jared might have longer legs, but Jensen’s have always moved faster than humanly possible. Their track coach at school had begged Jensen to run, every year; Jensen had always answered with a firm no, too busy with baseball, student council and all his other commitments. So Jared shouldn’t be surprised Jensen’s gaining on him, his pounding footsteps getting closer and closer. 

There’s the briefest slip of a second when Jensen’s breath is hot on the back of his neck. Jared hits the floor, the impact lessened by the smoosh of snow. Jensen’s weight against his back is enough to knock the air of his chest, magnified by the sudden cold as he inhales a mouthful of snow. 

“Hah! Gotcha!” 

Jensen’s as triumphant as Jared’s ever heard; if he weren’t struggling to breathe, he’d be laughing. And then it’s his turn to yell as handful after handful of snow is pushed under his jacket, melting enough to drip icy down his spine. 

“Ffuuuccc,” he croaks out, spluttering.

“No mercy!” Jensen’s rubbing the snow in his hair now, and that’s an insult too far. Gathering all their air in his lungs and all his strength, Jared bucks up, unseating his friend. Jensen goes flying back into the snow, and Jared pouces, landing on top of him. 

But Jensen hadn’t landed as hard as Jared, and he’s ready for a battle. They tussle, laughing; rolling backwards in the snow and making an angry snow angel. Jared’s soaked through; he can feel snow on his chest, soaking through the seat of his pants and even, distressingly, freezing against his groin. 

It would be even more upsetting if it weren’t for the warm weight of Jensen against him, eyes bright and hair sparkling with snowdrops. Jensen’s insanely beautiful like this, cheeks a rosy red, happiness radiating from him, and it’s hard not to find it distracting. 

Jared tries to concentrate on their wrestling, he really does; but the sweep of Jensen’s lashes against his freckles catch his attention, and its game over. 

Jensen lands on top of him with a grunt, pinning Jared’s hands easily. “Beg for mercy,” he says.

“Never!” Jared’s spirited response is halted by a mouthful of snow, and he splutters, livid. 

“Say it.”

“No!”

They’re both laughing, Jared’s body shaking Jensen’s. He can feel the vibration of Jensen’s laugh through his whole body, intense and intimate in a way that’s incomparable to anything else he’s ever felt. Jensen bends down, so close their noses almost brush.

“Beg for mercy.”

This time it’s softer, verging on dangerous; and Jared’s mouth is suddenly dry, all the snow evaporated by the heat washing through him. He gulps, and Jensen’s eyes track his throat, coming back up to settle on his mouth. 

“Beg.”

This time there’s no doubt the words mean something else. Jared can’t form words, but he begs with his body; muscles going lax and throat tipping back. 

Jensen makes a sound of deep approval, no words needed. He leans forward, and before Jared’s realised, his mouth is sweeping across Jared’s. 

Jared’s been waiting for this moment since he was a teenager, and yet nothing could have prepared him for the way it feels. Jensen’s lips are soft against his, cold with the air and the snow, but warming quickly as the kiss goes on. His teeth nip lightly at Jared’s lip, tongue soothing the bite before Jared opens his mouth. Its soft, exploratory and yet Jensen is in complete control, Jared becoming more and more breathless with every minute move. Jensen’s hands are still tight on his wrists, and he pushes against the hold, just because he can; he has no desire to get free. 

Jared’s uncaring of the snow seeping through his clothes, soaking his hair; he can’t even care that someone might see them. Every sense in his body is narrowed down to this: the long-awaited feel of Jensen’s mouth against his. 

And then it’s gone. 

Jensen pulls back, looking appalled. 

“Jay,” he stutters, swollen mouth struggling with the words. “I’m so sorry.”

He’s up and away before Jared can summon the brain cells to respond. Jared’s left lying in the snow, freezing inside and out. 

***

Filming is cancelled the next morning, snow pouring from the Vancouver sky. When there’s no sign of Jensen arriving on set, and no answer on his cell, Jared offers to help out their harassed PAs by dropping round to his apartment to tell him in person, despite his worry about the day before.

There’s no answer when Jared knocks on Jensen’s door. He’s only been here once, that night after the bar fight, but he’s sure he’s at the right apartment. There should be signs of life, though; Jensen hadn’t made it to set, so he should be here. 

Frantic with worry Jensen’s car had spun off the road in the heavy snow, he bangs again and again, uncaring of the disruption to Jensen’s neighbours. Lazy fuckers, anyway, if they were still asleep at 8am.

Jared’s sucking in huge, heaving breaths of panic by the time the door opens. Jensen slumps against the doorframe, face pale and skin clammy.

“What?” he asks. 

Jared’s floating too high on relief to snap back at his aggressive tone. 

“You look like shit,” he says, instead. 

Jensen might look like he’s about to collapse at Jared’s feet, but he’s not so far gone he’s unable to roll his eyes. 

“Why are you here?” There’s a belligerence to his tone that is out of character and he’s drawn back into himself in a way that has Jared frowning. His arms are crossed and he’s cringing away from Jared, looking ready to bolt. 

“Filming’s cancelled today,” Jared says shortly. “I came to tell you.” 

Jensen looks mildly panicked. “Filming?” he asks, blearily. “What time is it?”

“You’d be very, very late if it wasn’t cancelled.” Jared should be amused by Jensen’s obvious hangover, but it’s overridden by concern. “Are you gonna let me in?”

Jensen has the distinct air of someone whose brain is not working fast enough to refuse. Instead, he grunts. Jared takes that as a yes and pushes past him.

The apartment is a mess. There are clothes littered about, cushions strewn across the floor and a lamp dangles precariously over the edge of a table. It smells faintly of sweat and alcohol, much like Jensen himself. 

“Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll make some breakfast?” 

Jared can feel sweat prickling out across his body, but he’s determined not to give into his worry. He and Jensen are friends, and Jensen clearly needs TLC; that’s all there is to it. What happened yesterday doesn’t matter right now.

Jensen grunts again, but he disappears down a corridor that leads towards the bathroom, so Jared counts it as a victory. 

By the time Jensen comes back, the apartment looks more presentable. Despite the freezing air, Jared had flung the windows open while he tidied, and combined with the trash being in the bin, everything feels a lot fresher. Jensen looks better when he emerges, as well; the unpleasant sheen on his skin is replaced with a healthier flush, and his movements are less jerky and unsure.

Jared’s no cook, but he’s put some bread in the toaster and heated up some pre-made pancakes. They’re out on the table, a big glass of orange juice sitting beside them. It looks cheery and at odds with the sweat prickling on Jared’s palms.

“Breakfast,” he says, indicating the makeshift spread. 

Jensen gives him a blank look. It’s terrifying; over the past few weeks Jared has become more and more accustomed to knowing what’s going on in Jensen’s mind, to being able to read his expressions; but there’s nothing there.

Jared’s even more scared when Jensen just walks past the table and continues back to his room, not even acknowledging Jared. His knees go so weak he has to clutch the table for support, the juice rattling until the cup falls over. The juice spreads orange across the table, trickling to the floor, but Jared barely notices in his rush of fear that Jensen hates him now. 

He flails for a moment, white noise rushing through his brain. He feels like a child again, powerless to halt the way Jensen messes with his emotions. But after a couple of moments, his mind stills. He’s not a child, he reminds himself; he’s a grown man who can deal with personal conflict. As is Jensen, at least in theory; they should be able to talk this through like men.

Jared strides towards the bedroom before he loses his nerve. The best he can hope for out of this is that Jensen will act normal again and they won’t fuck up Supernatural; any other wild thoughts flying through his brain are unrealistic. 

Jensen’s sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, his shoulders shaking minutely. Jared’s overcome with love; Jensen’s hurting and he suspects this time it will take more than gummy bears to fix. 

“Jen?” There’s no response, not even a flicker of acknowledgement. Jared pauses, but really, this is an all or nothing situation. He takes his courage in his hands and crosses the room, dropping to his knees in front of Jensen. 

“Jen,” he says again, resting his hands on Jensen’s knees and giving them a shake. He feels comfortable down here, where he’s smaller than Jensen; it feels like this is how it should be. 

When Jensen still doesn’t move, Jared takes a deep breath and reaches for Jensen’s wrists. The skin is soft, fragile, and Jared is careful as he pulls Jensen’s hands away from his face, his thumbs finding a place against Jensen’s rabbiting pulse. 

Jensen looks wrecked. His eyes are bloodshot, red around the edges with a hint of tears seeping out. His skin is pale, freckles standing out even more than usual and his lip bitten cherry red. Jared’s aghast at the thought Jensen is this upset because they kissed.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly. He can hear his voice waver, and he curses; but Jensen doesn’t pick up on it. He shakes his head, trying to pull his hands out of Jared’s grip. 

“Jensen, you need to tell me what’s wrong.” Jared’s being firm now, trying to infuse his voice with the authority his mama had always used in situations like this. 

“What’s wrong?” Jensen’s voice is a bitter croak, and it’s followed by a nasty little laugh. “What’s wrong is that I assaulted you. How can you even bear to be near me?” 

Jared cannot process that sentence. It makes no sense. “What?”

“Exactly.” Jensen makes a concerted effort to pull away, but Jared’s hands tighten instinctively.

“What are you talking about?” he asks. “When did you assault me?”

That bitter laugh resurfaces again. “It’s nice of you to pretend, Jay, but I know what I did. Yesterday, I assaulted you. I kissed you and I wouldn’t let you go, and you couldn’t get away from me. I don’t know why you’re even here, you must hate me now.”

This is so different to Jared’s version of events that for a moment, his mind goes blank. 

“Do you think I didn’t want that kiss?” he asks slowly. “Are you serious?” 

It’s the wrong tack to take, because Jensen reacts even more strongly than before, yanking himself backwards so Jared is forced to let go. Jared’s not done though; he has a lot he wants to say.

“Seriously, Jensen?” He follows Jensen’s movements onto the bed. Jensen scrambles backwards, looking terrified, until he hits the headboard; Jared stops in front of him, so close they’re almost touching. Jensen’s eyes are wide and his chest heaving; Jared forces himself to speak slowly so he doesn’t make things worse.

“You did not assault me.” He enunciates every word slowly, trying to catch Jensen’s eye. “You did not do anything I didn’t want you to do. Hell, I’ve wanted that since I was twelve.”

That gets through to Jensen, and he looks up slowly.

“Yup.” Jared throws caution out of the window. His worry Jensen might hate him has been eclipsed by the fact that Jensen is hurting, and it’s switched off all his filters. “Twelve, Jensen. I’ve wanted you to kiss me since I was twelve. So you definitely did not assault me. That was the most on board I’ve ever been for a kiss in my entire life.”

Jensen still looks supremely unconvinced. He drops his head again, refusing to look at Jared. “Don’t lie to me just to make me feel better. I know what I did.”

Jared has had enough. If that’s Jensen’s problem, he can think of one quick, easy way to solve it. Without giving himself time to think, he leans forward and presses his lips to Jensen’s. 

It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the one they’d shared the day before. It’s soft and gentle, and Jared lingers a moment, enjoying what could be his last chance to experience Jensen’s lips on his. 

Jensen makes an aborted little sound Jared can’t place. He pulls back reluctantly, bringing his hand up to cup Jensen’s face. “See,” he says. “I wanted you to kiss me. I always want you to kiss me.”

Jensen’s eyes are flicking between his lips and his eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Jared’s mesmerised, as he always is; he waits, breathless, for Jensen to make the next move.

“You’re serious?” Jensen’s voice is hoarse, his hand trembling as he brings it to Jared’s face in a mirror of Jared’s own. 

“Deadly,” Jared replies. 

“Oh thank god.” There’s a moment when time stretches out, Jared’s heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat, and Jensen leans forward, his lips ghosting across Jared’s. It’s the most tender kiss Jared’s ever experienced, Jensen’s hand cupping his face so softly Jared can barely feel it, their breaths mingling and their noses brushing. Jared can feel tingles right from his scalp to his toes, his hands itching to touch but unwilling to break the spell.

Jensen pulls back first. “We shouldn’t do this,” he says. Jared’s heart sinks. “The show…” His voice tails off as his eyes fix again on Jared’s mouth. 

“The show will be fine,” Jared says, firmly. “We’ll work it out.”

Jensen leans back in and their mouths brush again, before Jensen stops. “You don’t understand, Jay. It could ruin everything.” 

There’s a flush across his cheeks, his eyes downcast. His hand is gripping his thigh so tightly Jared’s sure Jensen’s fair skin will be bruised. Jared doesn’t understand what’s bothering Jensen, why he’s so worried, but he’s not going to let this slip out of his grasp after all these years.

“It’ll be fine. And if it’s not, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” He twines his fingers with Jensen’s. “Together.”

***

Jensen’s trying so hard not to freak out again. He’s intoxicated by the taste of Jared’s mouth; now he knows he can have it, he wants more and more and more. But the fear that’s been with him for years is still there, nibbling at the back of his mind, taking bigger and bigger bites with every kiss.

Jared takes his hand, gripping his fingers so tight Jensen might never let go. Jensen looks at Jared’s face, remembering all the times Jared has been there for him, both now and when they were younger. There’s such sweetness shining there, Jared’s beautiful personality, his huge heart shining out through his eyes. Jensen’s as smitten as he’s ever been, the desire to be near Jared he’d felt when Jared was an innocent twelve year old now morphed into something different, but just as powerful. 

He can’t resist any more. It feels like giving in to something he’s been fighting for months without even realising; something shifting alignment inside him. He tugs on Jared’s hand, where it’s so neatly within his own, and Jared flows towards him like water; his long limbs graceful for once. 

Jared settles in his lap, all warm muscle against him. Jared’s arms are speckled with goosebumps, and Jensen traces a nail up one arm to see Jared shiver. It only lasts a moment, though, before he gives in to the urge to wind his fingers into Jared’s hair and tug him down. 

Jared’s moaning immediately, little whimpers spilling from his mouth into Jensen’s. Jensen’s addicted, wants to touch and press and lick every inch of Jared to find out which spots elicit the most noises. He pulls Jared’s hair again and Jared’s hips shoot forwards, his cock brushing against Jensen’s, clearly hard even through his jeans. 

Jensen desperately wants to take this slow, to get Jared naked and spread him out, but Jared has other ideas. He’s rocking against Jensen, mouth open and tongue swiping into Jensen’s mouth again and again. He’s beautiful, hair wild and cheeks splotched red, chest heaving and arm muscles flexing. Jensen wonders how he’s denied these feelings for so long, how he’s denied himself this sight. He won’t be doing it again.

Jensen wrenches his mouth away to taste Jared’s neck, laying bite after bite along smooth skin. He’s pushing up against Jared now, his cock reacting to every movement of Jared’s hips, every scratch of Jared’s hands under his t-shirt. Jared’s wild, moving faster and faster, and Jensen realises if he doesn’t get Jared’s jeans off soon, it’ll be too late. 

He fumbles at Jared’s buttons, his hand pressing against Jared’s cock. Jared gasps, loud and shocked, mouth biting Jensen’s ear; and Jensen feels hot wetness spread across Jared’s jeans. 

“Did you…” He can’t even finish the sentence; he’s so turned on by the rush of power he feels he’s at risk of doing the same thing himself. 

Jared’s lax against him, smile huge and pupils dilated; but when Jensen tries to undo his jeans Jared pushes his hands away. 

“Let me.”

Jensen’s head thunks back against the headboard, eyes slitted but fixed on Jared’s face. Jared’s huge hand wraps around his cock, stroking firmly. Jensen’s stomach muscles jump as he tries to hold back, but it’s a losing battle; it only takes a few moments before he comes, fingers digging into Jared’s shoulder as waves of pleasure crash through him. 

He slumps down in the bed, taking Jared with him until Jared is snuggled into his side. 

“I can’t believe we both came that quickly,” he says ruefully.

Jared laughs, sliding his sticky hand under Jensen’s t-shirt. “Filming’s cancelled. We’ve got all day.”

Jensen’s terrified by the hope welling inside him, but it’s there all the same. He hopes they have far longer than today.


	11. Chapter 11

**Epilogue**

The lake glitters in front of them, small lights dotted around the shore, getting closer together before melding into the blur of Austin in the distance. The silence is broken only by the hum of insects and the occasional distant roar of a motor boat powering through the dark, even the wind silent this sticky Texas night. 

Jared’s pressed so tight against Jensen they’re probably stuck together. He can feel the dampness under Jay’s shirt where his arm is tight around Jared’s shoulder, the tickle of Jared’s hair against his neck and the tapping of Jared’s fingers on his thigh. The truck bed isn’t exactly the most comfortable spot to cuddle in, but Jensen doesn’t care; the view - both of the lake and the man beside him - more than makes up for it. 

“It’s beautiful out here,” Jared says softly, their minds as aligned as ever. Jensen hums his agreement, stroking Jared’s hair back from his face. “Are you sure you’ve made the right choice?”

Jared’s tone is light, but the question is not. There’s real uncertainty built into it; worry that Jensen will be unhappy here in Austin compared to his old life in California. 

There are no doubts in Jensen’s mind. This has been his aim for a while; he’s told Jared again and again he’ll be moving permanently to this tolerant, buzzing city they’ve both fallen in love with, but ultimately actions had to speak louder than words. 

“Of course I have.” He pauses, wonders how sappy he should be, and then thinks fuck it. It’s his first night living in Austin, he can say whatever he wants. “The right choice is always to be with you. My home is wherever you are.” 

He can hear Dean in his voice as he says it, that ever-present shadow in his head chiming in as usual. Luckily, there’s an echo of Sam when Jared responds. 

“Sap,” he says, punching Jensen in the arm, but he’s almost vibrating with happiness all the same. 

It’s been a long road between them; it’s rarely been easy but its always been good. Jensen’s worked for this, sacrificed again and again; held strong when Jared needed him and broken down in turn. 

He pulls Jared even tighter against him, desperate as always for every touch between them. This might be the best moment of his life so far, curled in the back of a truck watching the stars reflect off of Lake Austin, basking in their beauty even though they’re nothing compared to the man in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my [Tumblr](https://soy-em.tumblr.com/) or find me on Twitter [@soy_em67](https://twitter.com/soy_em67) .


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